


Tell Me No Lies

by bornforwar_archivist



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 34,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornforwar_archivist/pseuds/bornforwar_archivist
Summary: by Kathryn AdkinsBuffy Summers is a high school senior who falls through the cracks... with her preoccupied mother, with her more popular friends, with her re-married father and his new family, with her unsupportive teachers. William "Spike" Giles is a college student who is beginning to take notice of his step-sister's mousy friend. How will a game of "To Tell the Truth" and a night spent together during a wicked storm catapult Spike and Buffy to the next level of their relationship?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Delenn, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Born For War](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Born_For_War), which closed in 2015. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in March 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Born For War collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bornforwar).
> 
> \--
> 
> Rating: R for sexual reference, language (eventually) 
> 
> Spoilers: None really. My first AU! High school drama because, to tell the truth, high school rocked! And my RL so sucks right now, so I'd like to think about happer times. 
> 
> Summary: Buffy Summers is a high school senior who falls through the cracks... with her preoccupied mother, with her more popular friends, with her re-married father and his new family, with her unsupportive teachers. William "Spike" Giles is a college student who is beginning to take notice of his step-sister's mousy friend. How will a game of "To Tell the Truth" and a night spent together during a wicked storm catapult Spike and Buffy to the next level of their relationship? 
> 
> Appearances by Cordelia Chase (Spike's step-sister), Harmony Kendall (Cordy's insipid liege), Oz and Xander (bass player and drummer, respectively, for Spike's band, Red Rain), Drusilla (as the once girlfriend of Oz and lead singer of Red Rain... aka Goth-Gril and Dark Princess), Angel O'Conner and Charles Gunn (boyfriends of Cordy and Harmony), Willow Rosenberg (Spike's best friend), Tara Maclay (Willow's lesbian lover), Joyce Summers, Rupert Giles and Honey Chase-Giles (as MIA parents). 
> 
> Archive: I would be honored if you want to archive it. Please let me know where so I can visit it.
> 
> Disclaimer: Joss and Mutant Enemy, etc. own BtVS. Blah, blah, blah. And don't forget to watch James on the WB series The Mountain on November 3rd! And what is this I hear about Angel possibly making a return to the WB minus David Boreanaz and Amy Acker? Could Spike be the next Angel? Gods and Godesses, let's hope so! 
> 
> Author's Note: Poetry verse is from "Incarnate Devil" by Dylan Thomas. Feedback greatly appreciated!

"Oh come on, Buffy. If my Mom calls, all you have to do is tell her I'm in the shower. Or the bathroom. Or... well, just make up something. And then call me at Angel's house and I'll call her right back," Cordelia begged.   
  
It sounded simple enough, but Buffy didn't know how much longer Ms. Chase-Giles would buy her lies. Harmony was staring at her with hopeful eyes. They got her every time with their 'Oh Buffy, why don't you come spend the weekend with us! It'll be just like when we were kids!' It never was like when they were kids. She knew that the only reason they still asked her to their sleepovers was so that someone would man the phone and feed Max, the aging Lhasa Apso Cordelia once carried around like a baby and now couldn't be bothered with.   
  
"Okay," Buffy digressed. "I guess I can study just as well at your house as I can at mine."   
  
Secretly, Buffy hoped that Cordelia's older bother, William, or Spike as he now liked to be called, would make an appearance. It seemed that he was home every weekend these days.   
  
"You are a life-saver, Buffy!" Cordy beamed, wrapping her arms around her friend and planting a noisy kiss on her cheek. "We'll totally be back in time to go to the beach tomorrow, okay?"   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes and shrugged her off. Cordelia was so overly dramatic that it was comical at times. Harmony looked at her and grinned.  
  
"I'm not all about the lesbian-love like Cordy, but thanks, Buff! You're the best," she agreed.   
  
Cordy and Harmony had taken to inviting Buffy over every weekend so that they could sneak out to see their boyfriends undetected by parental radar. It was easy enough. Angel picked them up at the convenience store across from Cordy's house.   
  
Cordy's mom had decided that being married to Mr. Giles was no longer fun. His business trips took him overseas too often and instead of accompanying him, she took to finding the company of men half her age. It was just too easy for Cordy to sneak out the sliding glass door in her bedroom and across the road to the Circle K.   
  
"No prob," Buffy smiled weakly.   
  
She was grateful that her own mother didn't ask too many questions about where she was or what she did. Lying to Cordy's mom was one thing. Lying to her own mother was another. Joyce wasn't home much these days, anyhow. Her passion for art had her travelling the world at the drop of a hat. She had already put their house up for sale and announced to Buffy that at the end of her senior year, she would be moving to New York to open a gallery.   
  
What about me? Buffy had initially thought. Instead of following her mother, she had decided to stay in Sunnydale and live in the dorms at the University when she graduated high school.   
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The phone rang for the third time at 11:30. Buffy prayed that it wasn't Ms. Chase-Giles again.   
  
"Hey Buff!" It was Cordy. She could hear Harmony giggling in the background and the sounds of muffled male voices as well.   
  
"Hey Cordy. What's the what?" she asked, absently petting the dog who had fallen asleep in her lap.   
  
"Just talked to Mom. She's down for the count," Cordy giggled.   
  
"In English, please?" Buffy asked.   
  
"She'll be out all weekend. Something about a hottie in LA and don't wait up and I'll see her Sunday night sometime," Cordy filled her in. "In other words, I won't be hearing from her again. So, uh... if you want to hang out at the house, that's cool. If not, that's cool, too. Just leave Max some kibble and maybe stop by and check on him if Spike doesn't show up before you leave. Oh, and make sure you lock up? You still have the key, right?" Cordy asked hopefully.   
  
Big freakin' surprise. They were completely blowing her off again.   
  
"Uh, yeah. I'll just head home in the morning," Buffy said a little too brightly.   
  
"Thanks, Buff! You're a gem!" Cordy sing-songed before hanging up the phone.   
  
Yeah... that's me. A freakin' gem.   
  
Buffy switched off the TV and made herself comfortable on the sofa. She had been working on a paper for senior English. Poem interpretation. It was something she enjoyed doing, but knew that her evil hag of an English teacher would just make her feel foolish for being more advanced than the other students.   
  
You don't do this for them, Buffy. You do this for you, she told herself as she began reading Dylan Thomas' "Incarnate Devil."   
  
Incarnate devil in a talking snake, The central plains of Asia in his garden, In shaping-time the circle stung awake, In shapes of sin forked out the bearded apple, And God walked there who was a fiddling warden...   
  
"Talking snake... he must know Cordy," Buffy mumbled, trying to ward off the tears stinging the backs of her eyelids.   
  
She pulled out her notebook and shifted the dog off her lap to the seat beside her. She was scribbling furiously, tortoise-framed glass sliding down her nose, when the turn of the dead-bolt made her jump.   
  
"Jesus, Will. You scared me," she gasped, as he poked his platinum blonde head in the doorway, secretly happy to see him.   
  
"I see you're playing house-sitter again, Pet," he grinned, secretly happy to see her.   
  
She closed her notebook and set it on the coffee table as he closed and locked the front door. She tried not to watch as he disappeared down the hall to throw his duffle bag into his bedroom. He reappeared a few minutes later and plopped down beside her on the couch and confiscated the remote control to the TV. He turned it on and began flipping through the channels, landing on Beavis and Butthead.   
  
"Ah, only the finest in Cult-TV for you, Will," she grinned, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.   
  
"Yeah, well, after a week of Calculus, Biochemistry and so many chapters of Don Quixote that my eyes have crossed, I deserve a little mindless drabble," he informed her.   
  
They sat laughing at the two cartoon idiots on TV for a little while without further conversation. She liked that about Will. When his father, Rupert, married Cordy's mom five years before, he'd been part of the package. One of which Cordy was not very fond. But Buffy had always been grateful to have someone with a brain to laugh and talk with. They had even taken to trading snipes about Cordy and Harmony. It was nearly impossible to not do.   
  
"Gawd," Cordy had whined after finding out that she was getting a brand new step-brother. "He's so freakin' embarrassing. He's got that awful accent and those stupid clothes and all he ever does is study and he's, like, always saying things I don't understand."   
  
I'm always saying things you don't understand, Buffy had thought.   
  
"Off with the great poof again?" Spike suddenly asked as the show broke to commercial.   
  
"Yeah. And Harmony's flavor of the week, Gunn," Buffy told him.   
  
He narrowed his eyes on hers and cocked his head to the side.   
  
"What?" she asked. She hated that look. He was always trying to figure her out.   
  
"I just don't get it, Summers," he told her. "Why do you still come here every weekend when you know all she's doing is using you?"   
  
Because of you, she thought.   
  
"Because she still asks me," she responded. "Why do you still come here every weekend even though your Dad is in England and has filed for divorce?" Turnabout was fair play.   
  
Because of you, he thought.   
  
"Nowhere else to go," he lied. "Honey and Cordy are the closest thing I have to family now that Da is back in England."   
  
Buffy giggled.   
  
"What's so funny?" he grinned.   
  
"Just... I hate calling Cordy's mom by her first name. She insists that I do it and I just... I mean, calling a grown woman Honey?" Buffy laughed.   
  
"Think that's funny?" Spike asked. "Imagine having to introduce her as Honey to your mates and then standing there red-faced while she openly flirts with them!"   
  
"Okay, okay," she stopped to catch her breath before giggling some more. "You've way got me beat."   
  
She looked up at the clock hanging over the entertainment center. Already pushing 1AM.   
  
"Hey, Will?" she asked quietly. He was already engrossed in the cartoon morons gracing the small screen in front of them once again.   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Can you give me a ride home in the morning?" She tried not to sound too disappointed about missing out on a day at the beach.   
  
"Mmm-hmm," he answered, still laughing at the television.   
  
A minute later he snapped off the TV and turned to face her.   
  
"Aren't you going to the beach with Queen C and her insipid liege?" he suddenly asked.   
  
She laughed weakly and rolled her eyes.   
  
"Yeah. About that... Honey's out for the weekend and it looks like Cordy and Harm are, too," Buffy told him. "She said something about me locking up and maybe checking on Max after I leave."   
  
He could feel the anger rising in him. Who the Hell did Cordy think she was? And why did Buffy continue to let her walk all over her time and time again?   
  
"No," he told her firmly.   
  
She wrinkled her brow, confused.   
  
"No... what?" she asked cautiously.   
  
"No, I won't take you home in the morning," he told her, arms crossed in resolve.   
  
"Oh," she said, disappointed. "Um, that's okay. I can walk or--"   
  
"That's not what I mean, love," he smiled at her. "You came over to go to the beach. And you are going to the beach."   
  
Was he... he couldn't be... was he?   
  
"Be ready at 8AM sharp," he told her before dropping a kiss on her forehead and disappearing into his room.


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy awoke in Cordelia's king-sized canopy bed the next morning around 7AM. Had Spike really said he was going to take her to the beach? And had he really kissed her forehead? She foggily recalled feeling very Marcia Brady as she practically floated to bed silently vowing to never wash her forehead again. She stretched and slowly made her way out of the tangle of sheets and comforter.   
  
It only took her a few minutes to shower, brush her teeth and dress. She was sitting on the couch running a comb through her wet hair when Spike emerged from his room.   
  
"Trust you slept well, Love?" he smiled, running his hand through his rumpled blonde curls.   
  
"Well enough," she smiled back. "You gonna be ready by 8?"   
  
She was trying not to stare at his bare chest. He was only wearing a pair of black watch plaid flannel boxers. *Note to self... boxers, not briefs,* she thought.   
  
"I'll be ready," he winked before heading down the hall to the bathroom.   
  
He closed the door and started the shower. A cold one. *When the hell had she gotten so cute,* he thought as he stepped into the chilly spray. She wasn't wearing anything special. Just a pair of frayed denim cut-offs and a black t-shirt emblazoned with red and white silkscreen reading "Grimly Fiendish." She had a pair of black flip flops next to her on the sofa. And her toes were painted a deep blood-red. He could see the black strings of her bathing suit peeking out of the collar of her t-shirt, tied in a bow at the nape of her neck. She hadn't been doing anything special. Just combing the knots from her waist-length golden hair with the occasional wince when she hit a snag.   
  
Her turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to quickly towel off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed back to his room.   
  
*The only thing separating him from me is that thin, white towel,* Buffy thought as she caught a glimpse of him on his way back to his room. Her hair had started to dry a bit and, hoping that Spike would roll the top down on his DeSoto convertible, she went back into Cordy's room to dig through her bag for a scrunchie. She found a black one with little red lips all over it and slid it onto her wrist for future use.   
  
Spike was waiting for her when she came back out, her bag slung on her shoulder, black wayfareres perched on her head. He was wearing a pair of cut-off camouflage cargo pants and a black Sex Pistols t-shirt. She grinned when she looked at him.   
  
"You *so* need a tan, Will," she said, rolling her eyes.   
  
"Sorry, Pet... I'm kind of like the dog... only catch every third word or so," he told her, with a cheeky grin. "You blah blah blah tan... more blah."   
  
"Whatever," she said, shaking her head. "Are you ready?"   
  
He nodded and opened the door. Buffy gave Max a kiss on the head and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes as she walked out into the bright sunshine. *Thank goodness it's nice out,* she thought. The DeSoto was sitting in the front drive and looked like Spike had wiped it with a diaper every day since he acquired it. He adored that car. It was a shiny black 1956 DeSoto Fireflite and was his absolute pride and joy.   
  
Buffy watched as he put the top down and then threw her bag in the large back seat. She wondered just how many lucky girls had been privy to the backseat of Spike's classic convertible. She felt her cheeks flush and quickly shook off any more dirty thoughts that tried to enter her head.   
  
"You gettin' in?" Spike asked as he started up the engine. "Or you gonna stand and stare at her all day, Pet?"   
  
Buffy opened the heavy door and slid into the passenger's side of the bench seat. She found her seatbelt and buckled up before turning to him.   
  
"Ready, Captain!" she smiled, pulling her hair up into the scrunchie she'd procured earlier.   
  
She loved the low growl of the DeSoto's engine. She felt much safer in its sturdy strength than she did in the lighter, newer vehicles. Cordy often made comments about Spike's 'boat' and how it would float away if it ever rained hard enough. Buffy had always been partial to the nostalgic vehicle. She knew that it had a lot of stories to tell.   
  
"Have I ever told you how much I love this car?" she asked him.   
  
He smiled widely. Fastest way to his heart was through his car.   
  
"Bet she's seen a lot in her day," she continued, dreamily.   
  
He raised his eyebrow and pretended to be hurt.   
  
"You makin' her out to be a trollup, Pet?" he asked. "Or just me?"   
  
Buffy felt her cheeks redden at his insinuation.   
  
"No, uh... I just meant that..." She was stammering. It was so embarrassing.   
  
He could see her out of the corner of his eye. She was stammering. It was so adorable.   
  
"She's a classic... she's seen a lot. I didn't mean--"   
  
"Just teasing you, Love," he told her with a wink.   
  
He leaned in to switch on the radio and flipped through the stations before settling on one that was actually playing music instead of commercials. The drive to the beach was about 45 minutes in good traffic. She almost hoped that the traffic was bad just so that she could spend more time riding in the DeSoto with Spike. He'd taken her home from Cordy's several times after she'd been ditched. And he'd even been the one to pick her up from dances and football games after she'd been left behind. She was always getting left behind.   
  
"I saw a real estate sign in front of your house last time I passed by," he mentioned, keeping his eyes on the road.   
  
When had he passed by?   
  
"Yeah... Mom's moving to New York when I graduate," she told him. She was glad her wayfarers were shielding her eyes. Just the thought of her mother leaving her behind made her want to cry.   
  
"And you? You're going to university there, then?" he asked, hoping that she wasn't.   
  
"Um, no. I'll be at UC Sunnydale. Dorms," she replied.   
  
He was quiet for a moment. She was going to UC? With him? Something didn't sound right, though. There was a pronounced sadness in her voice.   
  
"What is it, Pet?" he asked. "Didn't want to go to the big city with Mum?"   
  
"More like wasn't *asked* to go to the big city with Mum. I mean Mom," she said.   
  
What the Hell? Wasn't *asked?* He thought about the comment she'd made the night before when he'd asked why she still came to the house. She'd told him because Cordy still asked.   
  
"What about your father? Isn't he in LA?" he found himself asking.   
  
"That's what I hear. Him, his new wife and his new family. No room for Buffy in that nice little family portrait."   
  
He hated to hear her sound so defeated. She was always so bubbly. Like a duck, she was. Let things roll right off her back, or so it seemed. Could his Sunshine secretly have a dark side, he wondered.   
  
"Well, he's a stupid git then, Love. Don't know what he's missing without you to brighten his life," he huffed. Was he speaking for her father or for himself?   
  
"How come you didn't go back to England with your Dad, Will?" *Not that I mind you here. Not one little bit,* she smiled to herself.   
  
He shrugged and then started searching his cargo pockets for a pack of smokes. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her one.   
  
"Nah, I'm trying to quit," she joked.   
  
"Bully for you, Pet," he grinned as he placed a cigarette between his lips and began searching for his lighter. "Besides, I'd have to take you over my knee if I ever found out you smoked. Too nice a girl to be doing something that naughty."   
  
"Oh, so then you must be the naughty one, huh?" she couldn't help but volley right back.   
  
"Naughtier than you know," he said with a wink.   
  
They fell into a comfortable silence after he found his lighter and put it to use while they were stopped at a red light. She liked that about him. She could just sit and be herself. She was amazed that she actually felt more comfortable around Spike than she did around Cordy.   
  
Cordelia and Harmony had become so judgemental and self-righteous. She thought back to when they were in junior high and had actually hung out together. They spent many a weekend talking about boys, painting their nails and gossiping about the mean girls at school. *When had they become those girls,* Buffy thought.   
  
"Studying Thomas, I noticed," Spike said, interrupting her thoughts.   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Dylan Thomas. Welsh poet. You were reading him last night?" Spike reminded her.   
  
"Oh, yeah. That. Senior English project. I don't even know why I bother to try so hard. Nobody appreciates it," she found herself telling him.   
  
*I appreciate it,* he thought.   
  
"Do not go gentle into that good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light," he recited.   
  
She was impressed.   
  
"And did Mrs. Calendar berate you for it, too?" she asked him with an air of annoyance in her voice.   
  
"You bet she did. Stupid bint wouldn't know a decent poet if it bit her on the ass," he told her. "But I'll bet you don't choose your projects with her in mind," he added knowingly.   
  
"It amazes me how some of the students outsmart the teachers by leaps and bounds," she groused. "They're supposed to *want* to help me excel. Instead, they get all pissy and tell me to reign myself in because I'm making some of the other students feel stupid. Bet I'm just making *them* feel stupid."   
  
He laughed at that. He'd felt the same way she had on more than one occasion.   
  
"I'll let you in on a little secret, Pet," he leaned in conspiratorially. "Isn't that much different in college, either."   
  
"Way to be encouraging," she said, shaking her head. The radio was still playing quietly under their voices, but when Buffy recognized a favorite song, she reached for the knob and turned it up.   
  
That was another issue that made Buffy not-quite-cool material in Cordelia's and Harmony's eyes. Granted, they were never cruel to her. In fact, they treated her pretty decently compared to most of the friends who had fallen by the wayside in the wake of their high school popularity.   
  
Of course, Buffy still did their bidding. Helped them pass classes. Diverted Cordy's mother. She did it out of friendship, out of a loyalty likely best left in the past. And she knew that the kindness she received from Cordy and Harm was mainly out of pity with a bit of reluctant thanks thrown in for good measure. Most of the time, she didn't let it bother her. And some of the times, it just did.   
  
It would catch up with her when a snarky comment was thrown her way regarding the music she liked. Or the fact that she played the snare drum, 'a kind of cool instrument for someone in geeky marching band.' Or she'd get a backhanded compliment for her performance in the school musical... something along the lines of 'wow, Buff! That was great, you know... if you're all into that gay show-tuny stuff... which I'm not, but if I was... yeah. It would be, you know, pretty great.' Or the sweet smiles and invitations to parties she never went to when they'd stop by Double Meat Palace and see her behind the counter. She knew it was just their way of getting free refills on their Diet Cokes.   
  
She had tuned out everything except for the music bleeding from the speakers of the DeSoto and hadn't even realized that she'd begun loudly singing along with the radio in much the same way that she did when she was alone in her mother's Jeep.   
  
*You're in the corner, turning your back, you're runnin' away again The more I give you, the less that you take, tell me, where is it gonna end? Whoah-oh - I can see you've felt some pain Whoah-oh - I know you've been hurt before Whoah-oh - But I swear you won't get hurt no more - tell me...*   
  
Spike felt the smile as it stretched across his face of its own volition. He had no idea she could belt out a song like that. And she was oblivious to the fact that she had a captive audience.   
  
*How much love is it gonna take, to prove I'm not another heartache Till you begin to let your heart give in, how much love is it gonna take*   
  
He'd remembered Cordy commenting about how she was 'stuck going to Buffy's stupid play about a bunch of potato farmers in Idaho or something.'   
  
"I think you mean *Oklahoma,* Ducks," he'd corrected.   
  
*I'm reachin' for you, gettin' so close, but you're always a step away I wanna touch you 'n give my love, what is it gonna take Whoah-oh - I can see it in your eyes Whoah-oh - that you want to let me in Whoah-oh - But you're scared that you'll get hurt again - tell me...*   
  
As much as he'd wanted to go and check out her performance for himself, he found himself entangled in another of Dru's messes. He had initially been introduced to her during freshman year at UC Sunnydale. He'd decided to put together a band with a few guys from his Humanities class and she tagged along with the bass player, Oz.   
  
He quickly decided that she wasn't girlfriend material, though. To say Dru had a wandering eye was an understatement. Her eyes wandered even as she held fast to Oz's hand. She had a kick-ass voice, though, and that's what made them keep her around for the better part of two years -- regardless of her constant temper tantrums and the numerous bar fights she started. The final straw had been when she'd nearly knocked a girl's head off with Spike's vintage Strat at Club Demolition. He'd seen her pick it up and weild it like a bat and had managed to jump off the stage and push the shaken girl out of the way.   
  
"That little witch was staring at my lovely toy," she'd ground out as Xander, the drummer, and Oz held her back. Spike kept apologizing to the terrified red-head for Dru's behavior. And that's how he'd met his best friend, Willow.   
  
"I *so* was not staring at her toy," Willow had told him over and over. "I don't even like those kinds of toys... I mean boys. Gay here, you know."   
  
The toy comment had been the last straw for Oz, too. And Red Rain had been boys-only ever since. Spike had taken to lead vocals, but really missed a lot of the sexual energy behind Dru's powerful voice. He couldn't believe how Buffy's voice surpassed that of the Dark Princess.   
  
Summers had the sunny disposition of her last name. Yet, there she was, growling out the Vixen tune as if it was written just for her. Holy shit, she was about giving him a boner just listening to her sing.   
  
*I've been searchin' for an answer, oooh tell me what it's gonna be... *   
  
She was adorable as she played air drums and air guitar not even noticing that he was sneaking peeks at her on the periphery. Comfortable in her own skin, his girl was. Where the Hell had *that* come from? *His* girl? *Wishful thinking, lad,* he told himself. Buffy Summers treated him like a big brother. Was much too relaxed around him for it to be anything else. Besides, she probably had some boyfriend that he didn't know anything about.   
  
"So, why aren't you hanging out with some lucky bloke this weekend?" he asked, hoping to suss out her current boyfriend status.   
  
"You're a bloke last time I checked," she replied. "Guess you're saying you're not lucky?"   
  
"Har bloody har, Pet. I meant your boyfriend. You've got one of those, yeah?" he tried to dig a little deeper.   
  
"Not last time I checked," she said pretending to open a book and flip through it. "Nope. No boyfriend."   
  
What? They *had* to be beating down her door!   
  
"Must be because you're smart enough to be selective, that's it, innit Pet?"   
  
"Mmm... selective would imply that there was a selection from which to choose. So, no. That 'innit,'" she mocked him.   
  
There. That should shut him up for awhile. What the Hell was he trying to do? Rub her permanently single status in her face? Well, two could play at that game.   
  
"You still playing with Dru?" she asked, referring to his band.   
  
"Um, that would be a definate NO," he said emphatically. "But wouldn't mind playing with you," he added, not realizing how it sounded until the words had escaped his lips.   
  
She raised her eyebrow at him and crossed her arms across her chest.   
  
"Meaning," he said a little too loudly, "I'm in desperate need of a new lead singer."   
  
*Too bad,* she thought.   
  
"Is that so? And how would I fit into that picture?" she asked.   
  
"Bloody Hell, woman! Didn't you just hear yourself singing? You're bloody brilliant!" he informed her.   
  
She felt her cheeks fill with blood. *Oh yeah. That was me singing... really loud. Guess he noticed after all.*   
  
"Whatever," she shrugged, hoping he'd change the subject.   
  
"No, Buffy." He used her real name. "I'm serious. You've got an incredible voice."   
  
She tried to shrug him off again, but he wasn't having it.   
  
"Remember when you came out to Smash Club to see us play? That song Dru did? That other Vixen tune... *Cryin'*? I saw you singing it over in the corner off the stage. Her voice broke at that top note... bet yours didn't." He shot her a grin and she was shyly smiling as she remembered that night.   
  
*Thought so.* She could top Dru in the range department any day.


	3. Chapter 3

"You do realize that I'm not even technically old enough to get into half the places you play?" she challenged.   
  
"Yet you've managed to sweet-talk your way around the burly bouncers at both Smash and Demo and I believe the Hellmouth as well," he pointed out to her.   
  
She still had that shy smile on her lips.   
  
"I do have a way with big, scary men, I suppose," she said cheekily. "Are you propositioning me?"   
  
He choked a little at her play on words. She had no idea how he would love to proposition her. And in some of the most impure ways imaginable.   
  
"Just asking," he smirked. "You'd have to get the thumbs up from my mates, of course. Oz and Xander. But I don't see that really being much of an obstacle. Pretty girl, great voice. Gits would be fools not to chomp at the bit."   
  
She was worrying her bottom lip, refusing to make eye contact with him. Not that he'd be able to tell through her dark sunglasses.   
  
"You really think I could fill the pointy stilletoes Goth-Girl left behind?" she asked him, uncertain.   
  
It did thrill her, though, that if she was in Spike's band she'd see him all the time. And it gave her something to look forward to outside of being used by Cordy and Harm and being ignored by her mother.   
  
"Don't want you to be like Goth-Girl," he told her. "Want you to be Buffy. I like Buffy a lot better."   
  
She never thought she'd hear him say the words 'like' and 'Buffy' in the same sentence. Sure, she was really reaching, but it made her feel warm all over.   
  
They made the remaining ten minutes of the trip in a relaxed silence. As Spike pulled into the parking garage across from the beach access, she was jolted back to the reality that he would be seeing her in a bathing suit. Shit! Should have worn that one-piece, she thought. The bikini she had chosen would allow maximum sun-access, but it left little to the imagination. She had bra and panty sets made from more material than the tiny black string bikini she was wearing.   
  
Spike noticed how different Buffy was from his step-sister and her friends. She was far from Goth, but she tended to dress in the darker spectrum of colors. She wore a lot of black, red, grey and dark purples and maroons. But her skin was sun-kissed and her hair was full of shimmering light.   
  
He remembered when he had first met her. She was only 12. He was 15. She was the girl with the golden smile, swathed in pastel pinks and shades of peach. She even had her hair in adorable twin braids. It seemed that she slipped further and further into the darkness as the years wore on, but her smile was infallible. If anything, it had gotten even more beautiful and bright. At least when he saw her, that's the first thing he noticed.   
  
Now, as they grabbed their bags from the back seat of the DeSoto before raising the top, he started noticing other things that had blossomed as much as her smile. Soft, feminine curves were visible under that loose, black concert t-shirt.   
  
He thought back to when she'd acquired the shirt. She went to The Damned concert. Alone. And she ran into him there. He was with Oz, Dru and Xander. Dru had been extremely catty when he'd asked Buffy to come sit with them. And Buffy had met her with claws of her own.   
  
"Thanks, Will, but no," she'd smiled sweetly before turning to meet Dru's fleying eyes. "Oh, but don't worry. I'm sure I'll be able to feel the daggers you're shooting just fine from where I'm sitting." And then she walked away without a backward glance.   
  
He couldn't help but snicker a little as Dru scowled and asked what the Hell her problem was. And then she started digging into to the whole "Will" thing.   
  
"She talks to you like she knows you, my Spike," Dru had groused. "Yet she calls you by that wanker's name that doesn't hardly suit you any more. Tsk! Tsk! Such little girl dreams. She reeks of your past. And the stench is like rotting flesh."   
  
Dru had a way with melodrama. He had felt sorry for Oz when things finally went pear-shaped. As much as Oz should have seen it coming, it still hit him like a bitch when the cold, hard truth punched him square in the nose: Drusilla was the uber-slut.   
  
Buffy began spreading towels out on the sand as Spike stood watching her. She'd managed to pilfer three or four of the larger beach towels from the linen closet and was trying to cover as much of the soft, sugary sand as she could with them.   
  
"A little help would be nice, Will," she shot at him lightly.   
  
He started smoothing out the towels and then looked to her for approval.   
  
"For a pasty little man, you do pretty well at beach towel arrangement," she joked. "Definately passable."   
  
Wise-ass, he thought as he lifted his t-shirt over his head and wadded it up into a ball to use as a pillow. And then all his thoughts turned to mush as Buffy began pulling her own t-shirt over her head.   
  
Holy shit, she'd gone and grown breasts. Not that he hadn't noticed that she'd grown them before, but to see them covered by nothing more than small triangles of black fabric certainly put things into perspective. She was no longer that little girl in pastels and pigtails. She was a young woman with... oh, fuck! She was taking off her shorts. More skin... less material.   
  
He willed himself to look away and think about anything but her... Freddy Krueger... worm-infested apples... Grandma in a g-string. God, any less material and that's exactly what Buffy would be wearing. She threw her shirt and shorts on the towels next to him and then began rummaging through her bag for suntan oil. His senses were invaded by her cherry-vanilla scent as her clothes landed next to him with a soft thud.   
  
She flipped open the top of the Coppertone bottle and squeezed a large amount of oil into her palm. She seemed unaware of him laying there staring at her as she rubbed the oil into her legs and arms, then onto her chest and belly. And then she was saying something, but he was too dazed to make it out. Saying something about the oil? To him?   
  
"Earth to Will? Hey!" She said sharply as she tossed the bottle down to him. She laid down on her belly and then turned to shoot him a mischievous smile. "Do my back, Will?" she asked sweetly having no clue what she was really asking.   
  
He couldn't form a coherent thought while he was looking at her and now she wanted him to pour oil over her tanned, firm body and slide his hands over it? He nodded dumbly and grabbed the bottle. He fumbled with the flip-top and then squirted some of the fragrant liquid into his palm. He could feel his hand start to shake as he moved it to the soft spot between her shoulder blades. She didn't seem to notice his trepidation.   
  
Jesus Christ, Mate! You're a grown man! It's just a little oil between friends, he silently scolded himself. Easier thought than carried through, though. His hands continued to tremble as he slid them over her golden skin, dipping down to the small of her back and stopping at the waist-line of her bikini bottom. He was suprised at what he saw peeking out from the taut black material. Little Buffy got herself inked, he grinned as he wondered how many people knew about the little dragonflies dancing around her tailbone.   
  
"You stopped," she said dreamily.   
  
"I'm done," he replied softly.   
  
"Oh." She sounded a little embarrassed. "I guess you are. I, uh... guess I went all Jello-kneed with the back rubbing. Don't mind me."   
  
He rolled back to his own side of the beach towels and sighed. Did she just say he made her Jello-kneed?   
  
"Any more secrets you care to share?" he asked her.   
  
Huh? Had she just revealed a secret?   
  
"The, uh... bit of ink on your backside," he said pointedly.   
  
"Oh, that." That secret. "It, uh... well, it was originally meant to piss off my mother. And then it turned into this weird fascination with pain and with proving to myself that I was strong enough to endure a needle tapping into my spine for over an hour. And then it turned into the realization that I'm a little bit in love with pain." Way to go, Buffy. That'll scare him off.   
  
She could hear him chuckling beside her. What the Hell was so funny? That wasn't supposed to be funny. He wasn't supposed to laugh. He was supposed to go "Bloody Hell, Summers... nutter much?" Or whatever little Britishism fitted her declaration.   
  
"What's so freakin' funny?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows. He shut up immediately.   
  
Damned cleavage. It sobered him up as soon as he got an eyeful of it. Made him want nothing more than to bury his head between the soft pillows of flesh and...   
  
"Answer me, Will!" She was still talking. "What the hell is so funny?"   
  
"Nothing," he mumbled. "Nothing at all. Just was surprised to see you inked up... and more surprised to hear your reason, is all. Got a couple of my own. Not like I can't relate to the whole pain is pleasure connection, Love. Wouldn't have gone under the needle myself if a part of me didn't feel that way."   
  
"Oh... so you don't think I'm a nutter? I mean nuts?" she corrected herself at the appearance of his raised eyebrow. He was definately amused by her use of British slang.   
  
"Ah, no. Don't fancy you to be a nutter one bit," he grinned. "'Sides, you were just being honest. One of the things I like about you, Kitten."   
  
He'd never called her Kitten before. She found herself wanting to purr in contentment at his new nickname for her. And then she had a wicked idea. He liked honesty?   
  
"Hey, Will," she whispered. "I have an idea."   
  
'Hmm, what's that, Pet?" he asked, sleepily.   
  
"For the rest of the day, let's be honest. No lies. We can ask each other anything and we have to always answer with the truth." She hoped her little game didn't backfire in her own face.   
  
"Thought you were always honest with me?" he teased. He caught the flash of pink as it crossed her cheeks and nodded. "Okay, then. Honest, it is. You think I'm hot, don't you?" he challenged, fire blazing in his blue eyes.   
  
Go figure.   
  
"Uh, conceited much?" was her quick response.   
  
"Eh-eh-eh... got to be honest, Love," he pushed.   
  
"I was being honest. Conceited. Much?" she repeated.   
  
"I'll let that one go, then. For now."   
  
"Besides, that's a rhetorical question," she grumbled as she turned over to her back.   
  
"How's that?" he asked.   
  
"Because it's one you seem to think you know the answer to already," she shot back, her voice teasing.   
  
She lay there silently for a few moments as the grin spread across her lips. She could still feel him watching her even though her eyes were closed.   
  
"Okay, okay," she giggled. "You know you're hot, Will. For a pasty little man."   
  
"Har bloody har, Goldilocks," he teased right back.   
  
Buffy let herself be lulled by the warm sun, soft breeze and soft crashing of the ocean's waves. She could feel herself slipping into sleep. It wasn't until she felt the icy cold of water cascading over her heated skin that she realized just how deeply she had fallen into dreamland.   
  
Spike stood above her, tongue curled behind his teeth, with a borrowed child's sand pail in his hands. As soon as he saw her eyes widen in shock, he dropped it and ran toward the ocean, Buffy just a few feet behind him.   
  
"You are so dead, William Nigel Giles!" she shouted as she followed him into the cold sea.   
  
He tucked into a wave as it rolled toward the shore and she found herself searching for that shock of blonde hair to emerge. When it didn't, she began to dart her eyes around frantically.   
  
"Will, this isn't funny," she called to him. A few more seconds elapsed and she called out again, this time her voice was tinged with a bit of fear.   
  
"Will, where are you? This isn't fun--"   
  
She felt something latch around her ankle and she was pulled swiftly into the shallow water beneath her. She landed, with a splash, on her behind. Panic had firmly settled in and then she saw him. And a little bubble of rage replaced the panic in a heartbeat.   
  
"Jesus Christ, Will!" she yelled, pummeling his chest with her small fists. "That was so not funny!"   
  
She felt warm tears stinging the backs of her eyelids and fought furiously to keep them at bay. She was still trying to push him away, but it only made him tighten his grip around her waist even more.   
  
"Buffy?" He was trying to force her to look into his eyes, but she knew that would be her undoing.   
  
"Get. Off. Me. Will." she seethed. He loosened his grip, but still held her to him as the water lapped at their skin. He started wading them toward the waist-deep water.   
  
"I'm really, really mad at you," she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest in resolve.   
  
"Why?" He had a cocky grin plastered on his face.   
  
"Because..." For the rest of the day, let's be honest. No lies. "Because you dumped water on me while I was asleep!" There, that wasn't a lie.   
  
"And?" Pushy bastard.   
  
"And what? And it made me mad," she insisted.   
  
"Yeah. Got that part. But that's not what I'm asking about, Love," he pressed. She was trying to keep her head about her, but his strong chest settled under her hands was making it rather difficult.   
  
"Is it because maybe Buffy was worried about Big, Bad Spike?" he asked lightly.   
  
She bit her lip. Who's stupid tell the truth idea was this again?   
  
"You are my friend's step-brother," she said in her own defense.   
  
"Uh-huh," he responded, finally capturing her eyes. "And it would just break the Cheerleader's heart if I had drowned to death."   
  
"Sure it would," she told him, not believing that herself. She wasn't even sure that Cordy had a heart.   
  
"And what about you, Kitten?" he asked. "Would it break your heart if I had become one with the fishes?"   
  
He was enjoying this way too much.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ego much, Will?" she glared, still not moving out of his embrace.   
  
"Oh, come on, Summers. If you were lost at sea, I'd be heartbroken," he said softly.   
  
Buffy couldn't help but smile a little. He'd be heartbroken? Good.   
  
"Mmm... good for you, then," she told him as she wrapped her legs around his waist and laid back.   
  
If William Giles wanted to play the slow-death torture game, she could play it, too.   
  
His eyes widened as she closed her eyes and let her hair fan out around her. Looked like a bloody angel, she did. What the Hell was she trying to do?   
  
"What are you doing?" he rasped out.   
  
She didn't bother to open her eyes or move. She continued to lay on her back with her thighs gripping his sides in the waist-high sea water.   
  
"Pet?"   
  
"Shh... I'm dead," she whispered, fighting back the tremendous urge to giggle.   
  
"What the Hell--"   
  
"Shh!" she reprimanded him again. "I'm giving you a visual. And, I've got to say, Will. Doesn't sound like your heart is breaking."   
  
He continued to watch her, fascinated by how lovely she was. He admired the expanse of golden skin laid out before him. He bit his lip as her breasts bobbed in the gentle waves. And then he unmercifully started wiggling his fingers towards her rib cage, knowing that Buffy was extremely ticklish.   
  
"Well, then. Since you're dead, guess you won't mind me doing this," he smirked as he began tickling her sides in earnest.   
  
She shot up immediately, eyes wide in horror, and began begging him to stop between loud laughter and huge gulps of air.   
  
"Oh, God, Will!" she gasped. "Stop! I'm not dead! Stop!"   
  
"And you'd be heartbroken without me?" he insisted.   
  
"Heartbroken," she agreed, still wriggling and gasping in his grasp.   
  
His cocked his eyebrow and pulled her close to him.   
  
"Wouldn't be lying to ol' Spike, now, would you, Pet?" he teased her. "Because someone had the brilliant idea to tell the truth all day and I'd hate to see her lose at her own game."   
  
As quickly as she'd caught her breath, she'd become breathless again. There was something about the way he was looking at her, about the way he was weaving his words.   
  
"Nope," she told him honestly. "Not lying. And since we're all about the honesty, I can honestly say that if you ever tickle me like that again, I will pee on you. You're so lucky I didn't... and it wouldn't be my fault. Tickleage and bladder control do not go hand-in-hand for this girl."   
  
He released her and grinned wickedly as he ran his hand through his wet hair.   
  
"Some might find that a real turn-on, Kitten."   
  
"Euw, Will," she grimaced. "A world of euw."   
  
"Didn't say I might, you daft bint," he told her, wading back toward the shore. "Just said some might."   
  
She squeezed the water out of her hair and began following him. That was just too weird. Too much naked skin touching. Fingers wriggling too close to her breasts. Her crotch way too close to his. She mentally thanked God for their being immersed in the cold water. She was positive that she was quite wet without the help of the water.   
  
She had only dreamed about being that close to Spike since she met him. Something about him exuded sex... not that she had any experience in that department. She hadn't even had her first kiss yet. All Harmony and Cordelia talked about was how many times they'd done it. And how big Angel's dick was. And how Gunn had nearly gagged Harmony the first time she went down on him.   
  
The only boy she had ever thought of in that way was Spike. Her Will. He was perfect in her eyes. Smooth skin stretched across firm muscles, bright blue eyes, silky blonde hair that she wanted to muss every time she saw him with it slicked back. He was absolutely beautiful. Man-pretty, she thought.   
  
Then there were the layers. He had layers. He was funny and charming. He was smart. Street-smart as well as educated. He got her jokes, which was a definate rarity among her peers. He was passionate and talented. He mesmerized her when she watched him play with Red Rain. She loved watching his fingers glide gracefully over the neck of his Strat. Her spine would tingle when she thought about how good his fingers would feel gliding over her body.   
  
He sat on the beach towels and stared out at the sea. What the Hell was he doing? This was Buffy. Cordelia's little friend. She sat next to him and began rummaging through her bag for something.   
  
"You're gonna burn to a crisp, Will," she told him, snapping open the cap to a tube of sunblock. "Turn around and let me get your back before you start sizzling from overexposure."   
  
He turned and immediately tensed up when her hands began moving on his back.   
  
"What?" she asked, stopping. "Are you already a little burnt?"   
  
He was burning up, but it wasn't from the sun.   
  
"No, just... your hands... " he stammered. "Still a little chilly from the water."   
  
"Oh, sorry about that."   
  
She went back to her task and he relaxed as she rubbed the lotion into his skin. She took her time, enjoying the feel of his sleek muscles under her hands. She was chewing nervously on her bottom lip as she dipped her hands to cover his lower back. His skin was beautiful. Pale, but creamy smooth. Unmarred perfection. Not ready to stop, she rubbed a little more lotion between her palms and ran her hands down the length of his arms, starting at his shoulders. She loved how he was built. He was lean and strong. Not bulky like Angel, Cordelia's boyfriend. Michelangelo couldn't have sculpted a more perfect David than God had when he created Spike.   
  
He cleared his throat, startling her out of her reverie.   
  
"Oh, sorry," she apologized, handing him the tube of sunblock. "I was... uh, I..." No lies. "Just daydreaming. Didn't mean to..."   
  
"'s'alright, Kitten," he said turning to her. "Wasn't complaining."   
  
He squeezed some of the lotion onto his hands and rubbed it into his chest. He really wasn't complaining. Her soft, little hands felt much better on his body than his own. Just what had she been daydreaming about? He thought about asking and putting her on the spot. He had the feeling that it just might have been him. And if it was... well, what then? What was he going to do with that? It's not like she was a little kid any more. She was practically a grown woman getting ready to graduate high school and move onto the same college campus as him. What was going to stop other guys his age from hitting on her? Me, that's what, he thought tersely. Don't need some undeserving dink hooking up with my girl, he thought. Shit! There it was again. His girl. If anything, Buffy was her own girl. Not his. Gratefully, not anyone else's either.   
  
"Bet you're dying to get out of high school so you can start living your own life, yeah?" he guessed.   
  
She furrowed her brow.   
  
"I do live my own life," she said just a little too defensively.   
  
"I just meant--"   
  
"I just happen to be more interested in doing well in school than screwing everything with a penis," she continued in an overly huffy tone.   
  
"I didn't mean--"   
  
"And if that means I'm not living my life, then you're just sadly mistaken, Bub. Because I do plenty of living. Tons. I'm the life of the fucking party!"   
  
"Pet. I just--"   
  
"I mean, if I had a party, that is... and I could. I could have parties every weekend while my mother is off in New York forgetting I even exist. And people would be lining up at the door," she said determinedly just as her lip started to quiver. "They would," she whispered as the first tear fell.   
  
Aw shit, I made her cry, he scolded himself. He turned to her and couldn't stop his thumb from moving to wipe the tears from her cheeks. He narrowed his eyes on hers and smiled.   
  
"I didn't mean anything by that, Kitten," he said softly. His hand was still stroking her cheek. "Was just making conversation. Seems like you might have some things on your mind, though."   
  
She nodded, feeling completely humiliated. She couldn't figure out why she'd felt the need to be defensive with him. Too much was bubbling just beneath the surface. Too much anger. Too much pain. Too much disgust and self-loathing. She tried so hard to be Happy Buffy all the time. She tried to fill her life with student council meetings, the next audition for Pippin, studying for SATs and working at Double Meat Palace. She just couldn't fill the hole in her heart. She didn't want Harmony to fix her up with one of her leftovers. She wasn't interested in making out in the woods at some party with a guy she'd just met. She wanted Spike. And no one else would ever do.   
  
"You need to get out more," he told her cautiously. "And don't go getting shirty with me. I'm just making an observation. Every Friday, I come home and you're sitting there studying and playing secretary for Cordelia. When you're not doing that, you're slinging hash at the Double Meat. I mean, thank God you're such a talent that you land leading roles in all the school musicals. What I'm saying, Pet," he sighed. "Is all work and no play is making Buffy a dull girl."   
  
She knew he was right. The clouds were starting to move through the sky, swirling puffs of greying white. Storm clouds were on their way.   
  
"Look at that, would you? You're sucking the sun right out of the sky!" he joked. It earned him a smile and a soft slap on the knee. "Christ, Woman! A storm's a-brewin' all in your honor."   
  
He ducked his head down to catch the wide smile she was trying to hide.   
  
"Be a good girl and pick up here and I'll go get the car and meet you at the road," he instructed her. "Do it quick and I'll buy you lunch."   
  
"Where?" she asked quickly.   
  
"Anywhere you want so long as you don't break me for the week," he told her, offering his hand to help her up.   
  
She was thoughtful for a second.   
  
"Waffle House."   
  
"I say anywhere and you pick Waffle House," he said, shaking his head. "Good to know you're a cheap date, Summers."   
  
She laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. This so was not a date. As much as she wished it was, it wasn't. It made her wonder what a date with Spike would be like, though. If she didn't know him as well as she did, she'd guess that he'd be the type to take a girl to a loud, chain restaurant where the servers wore obnoxious buttons all over their uniforms and you had to yell in order to hear each other. Then, off to an equally deafening rock club to take in a raucous night of punk music or grindcore.   
  
But she did know him. All too well. She finished shaking the towels out and folded them before sticking them into her bag. She slipped on her cut-offs and t-shirt and then headed up to the road. Spike was already pulled up to the curb when she got there.   
  
He leaned across to open the door for her and she threw the bags in the backseat before sliding in front beside him. Once she latched her seatbelt he nodded and took off.   
  
There was a Waffle House halfway home. She knew it well. It reminded her of happier times when she was in junior high. When Cordy and Harmony had actually wanted to hang out with her. When her mother and father were still married and would take the carful of girls to the beach for the day and then out to eat when the day was done.   
  
The Melting Pot. He'd take a date to the Melting Pot, she thought. And he'd order a bottle of really good wine. He'd consult with her and then order for both of them. She had seen men do that in movies. And he looked like the kind of guy who would do that on a date. Then he'd feed her fondue from his own plate. His eyes would twinkle as he complimented her because he'd mean whatever he said. And then he'd take her to a little outdoor cafe for coffee where an acoustic duo was playing. He'd sit close to her and hold her hand, stealing little nips at her neck and cheek when he thought no one was looking. He'd breathe in her scent and tell her how beautiful she smelled and then he'd...   
  
"Buffy? You there? You keep spacing out on me today, Pet," he told her. She realized that he had already pulled into the parking lot and had turned off the engine.   
  
"Must be the sun," she lied. No lies. "Or something... I'm probably just hungry." That wasn't a lie. It was, however, a diversion.   
  
"Alright then," he smiled as he got out of the car.   
  
And he'd open her door for her, she thought as she opened her door being sure to lock it before closing it again. If he was on a date. That's what he'd do. Which made this very much nothing like a date. She did notice that he held the door for her when they entered the diner. She thanked him quietly before setting her sights on the back booth she always shared with her parents and her friends.   
  
She looked at the familiar laminated menu and smiled. Nothing had changed. Same bright pictures of various waffle and melt platters. And hash browns. Her father had always ordered them scattered, smothered, covered and chunked.   
  
"Know what you want already, Pet?" he asked when he saw her look up.   
  
"Same old, same old," she smiled. "Chicken melt and hashbrowns, scattered and covered."   
  
He noticed that she seemed more at ease. Something about the greasy spoon was making her happy. And that made him happy, too.   
  
Their waitress appeared behind the counter next to their booth with pen in hand. Buffy read her name tag... Molly. She looked like a Molly.   
  
"What can I get you kids today?" she asked, pen poised and ready to write.   
  
Buffy went to open her mouth when Spike ordered for her.   
  
"The lady would like the chicken melt and hash browns, scattered and covered," he began. "What do you want to drink, Love?"   
  
"Coffee, cream no sugar," she eked out, surprised that he'd taken the liberty of ordering for her.   
  
"And I'll have the pecan waffles with a side of bacon," he looked across the table at Buffy as if he was remembering something. "Make that two sides of bacon. And orange juice," he finished.   
  
Their waitress, Molly, disappeared to bring their drinks.   
  
"I seem to remember someone who can't keep her fingers on her own plate when there's bacon involved," he smirked at her.   
  
It was true. Whenever she stayed at Cordy's and they all ate breakfast together, she would manage to rid Spike of the bacon on his plate before he even noticed it was gone. Molly set their drinks in front of them and then went back to preparing their food.   
  
"Caught that, huh?" she asked, stirring the creamer into her coffee. "And here I thought I could blame it on Cordy or Harm."   
  
"Love, you're the only one who eats. Those two just sit there bitching about calorie this and fat gram that. Bloody annoying trying to share a meal with them, it is!" he groused.   
  
She looked like she was starting that self-doubting thing again and he knew he'd better throw a compliment her way and fast.   
  
"Nice to actually be able to sit and eat with someone who doesn't blot her pizza with a napkin... someone who isn't afraid of death by chocolate," he added. "Besides, a girl like you doesn't have to worry about cheeseburgers going straight to her ass. Bloody perfect is what you are, Kitten. Could stand to eat a little more, in fact."   
  
"Uh-huh," she smiled dumbly as Molly set the plate of hash browns and her sandwich in front of her. Spike began pouring syrup over his waffles when he saw her looking around the table.   
  
"Molly," he called to the waitress. "Could you be a love and bring my girl some ketchup and mayonnaise?"   
  
Molly smiled and ducked under the counter. She returned with several packets of mayonnaise and a bottle of ketchup.   
  
"Thank you, Pet," Spike told her as Buffy stared at him.   
  
He returned to drowning his waffles in syrup and cutting them into little squares. She was staring.   
  
"Something wrong with your food, Kitten?" he asked, not looking up from his plate as he speared a couple of waffle pieces and stuffed them into his mouth.   
  
She shook her head slowly to indicate her food was fine and then proceeded in squeezing several packets of mayonnaise over her hash browns. She poured on a hefty amount of ketchup and smeared it around with her fork before taking a bite. Just as good as she remembered them when she was a kid.   
  
They ate in relative silence. He knew that she was still wondering how he knew about the ketchup and mayonnaise. It's not so much that he knew as that he guessed. One thing he noticed was that if it was some sort of fried potato -- be it a french fry or a tater tot -- Buffy was covering it in mayonnaise and ketchup.   
  
The little things. He noticed the little things, she realized. He noticed the little tattoo. He noticed every time she'd done something different with her hair. He noticed how she ate, things she said... he always took notice. Nothing escaped him.   
  
She polished off her sandwhich and hash browns and then snuck a piece of bacon from his plate. He didn't call her on it. Instead, he ducked his head to try and conceal his told-you-so smirk.   
  
"You about ready, Love?" he asked when she set down her empty coffee cup.   
  
"Mmm-hmm."   
  
"Why don't you go out to the car while I settle up then. With any luck, we'll make it back home before the rain moves in," he told her, handing her the keys.   
  
"You kids be safe," Molly told them from across the counter. "It's supposed to get pretty rough tonight. Weather man's talking thunderstorms and hail and some twisters here and there."


	5. Chapter 5

The rain started about ten minutes before they made it home. It was late afternoon, but the closer they got to the Chase-Giles house, the darker the sky became. Forboding. That was the word that came to Buffy's mind as the puffs of white swirled into dove greys and then to midnight hues. The promise of Mother Nature's wrath filled her with a mixture of fear and excitement. Thunder scared her to death. Sure, she knew it was the lightning that should scare her, but the deep rumble before the crackling flash always thrilled her.   
  
The rain remained fairly light and uneven for several minutes, but broke out into a steady pelt against the DeSoto's windshield as Spike pulled into the Sunnydale city limits. She prayed he didn't take her home. She didn't want to sit in that big house all alone during a storm. Besides, their game of To Tell The Truth was far from over. A winner still hadn't been declared. And she intended to win.   
  
Spike glanced over at her as the neared the house. What should he do? Can't let her sit at home by herself in this storm. She was already gripping the edge of her seat.   
  
"Buffy," he said, deciding to chance it. "Why don't you stay with me tonight. This thing could get pretty ugly, and I really don't fancy you being all alone... especially if the power or phone lines go out. Wouldn't be able to reach me if anything happened." He knew he was rattling on... giving too many excuses. But he really didn't want to think about her sitting alone and not being able to contact him. She'd be safer with him.   
  
She let out a grateful breath. She so did not want to be the one to beg to stay with him. She was glad he saved her the humilation.   
  
"Yeah, that's probably for the best, Will," she smiled as she nodded. "Thanks."   
  
He pulled into the drive in front of the house and turned to her.   
  
"Ready to make a run for it?" he asked, curling his tongue behind his teeth.   
  
"Ready as I'll ever be," she agreed.   
  
He reached into the back seat to grab their bags and turned back to her with a boyish smirk.   
  
"Count of three?"   
  
She couldn't help but giggle and began counting with him.   
  
"One... two..." Their hands were on the door handles.   
  
"Three!" she yelled and swung open the door, trying not to let it slam shut as she dashed for the front door of the house. He was right behind her fumbling for the right key as the rain began to pour all around them. He unlocked the two bolts on the door and opened it, pushing her through the doorway first.   
  
He slammed the door shut and locked it, dropping their bags on the floor of the tiled entryway in the process. She stood looking at him, breathless. He looked amazing as the water droplets clung to his chin, his nose and his rumpled curls. She coudn't help but reach out and wipe away some of the rain drops from his face. He narrowed his eyes on hers, leaning into her touch just a bit.   
  
"How about you fetch us some towels so that we can dry off before we catch pneumonia?" he told her.   
  
She nodded and took off for the linen closet in the hall. What was that all about, she thought. That was just too weird. Too... couple-y. I probably freaked him out, she thought as she pulled a couple of thick towels down from the top shelf.   
  
She returned to the living room and handed him a towel.   
  
"Looks like Cordy's been here," he told her as he began drying his hair. "She left a note in the kitchen that Max went out and that she'd be home late tomorrow."   
  
Buffy nodded, glad that the little dog hadn't been neglected. She didn't see him wanting to go out in the torrential downpour to do his business.   
  
"I'm going to go put on some dry clothes," she announced.   
  
"Make sure it's something warm," he called after her. She looked at him, puzzled. "I'm going to turn down the air just in case the power decides to go out. Get it chilly enough in here to last awhile."   
  
"Right," she nodded. "Good idea."   
  
She grabbed her bag and let herself into Cordelia's room, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the closed door and sighed. It was going to be a long night.   
  
She dumped her bag out on Cordy's bed and dug through the pile until she found a pair of light grey drawstring sweatpants with "NYU" silkscreened in an arch across the ass and a light grey tank top. She dug a little more and found one of the bra and panty sets made from a little less material than her bathing suit in a deep shade of red. She went into the small bathroom attached to Cordy's room to run a washcloth over her body before changing clothes. She didn't know what posessed her to break out the skimpy underwear, but she couldn't stop the wicked grin from spreading across her lips as she got dressed. She grabbed her comb and a little vial of cherry-vanilla scented oil and dabbed a bit on her pulse points before going back out into the living room.   
  
Spike had already changed. He was stretched out on the couch wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a black Misfits t-shirt. There was a bottle of brandy and two snifters sitting on the coffee table. He looked her over as she approached him and raised his eyebrow.   
  
"I take it you just don't own any clothes that actually cover your body, yeah?" he teased.   
  
"Very funny," she scowled, pulling the comb through her damp hair. "I'm not cold yet." She looked at the glasses on the table and back to him.   
  
"Since you're not cold, guess you won't be needing a nip of brandy," he said, pouring himself a glass. "More for me."   
  
She sat down beside him, set her comb on the table, picked up a glass and held it out. He stared for a second, as if he was deciding whether or not to corrupt her.   
  
"You ever drink anything, Summers?" he asked, skeptically.   
  
"Sure, I have. I'm not a baby, you know." She was getting defensive again. But she wasn't lying. She'd had a glass of champagne at her father's wedding. And she'd had half a beer on New Years' Eve at Angel's big bash.   
  
And then there was the tome or two she got drunk on whiskey out of sheer boredom when she was stuck in the house alone for a weekend while her mother was off globetrotting without her. That was not of the good. Lots of morning-after pukage and headaches. But this was brandy. Not whiskey. Not like she was going to be doing hefty man-shots or anything. It was a sipping drink.   
  
He snickered and poured the amber liquid into her glass.   
  
"Now don't go belting it down now, Kitten. Don't need to be accused of contributing to the delinquency of a minor," he joked.   
  
And there. He did it again. Pissed her off. She knocked back the brandy that was in her glass without even wincing and held out her glass for a refill. He looked appropriately apologetic as he refilled her glass. This time she sipped at it as he continued to watch her. She looked right back at him, practically daring him to say something.   
  
Kitten certainly does have a dark side, he thought. And it made his spine tingle in anticipation of finding out what other dark little secrets she was hiding behind that bright smile and angelic face.   
  
He suddenly grabbed her hand and stood up.   
  
"Come with me," he told her, pulling her to her feet, "I want to show you something."   
  
She followed him, one hand on her glass of brandy, the other wrapped in his. We're going to his bedroom, she thought as her heart started thudding a little harder in her chest. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh damn...   
  
"Go ahead and sit down," he instructed, nodding toward his bed. She did as she was told and turned to watch the storm through the bay window. His bed was tucked into a cubby with the window above it. It was more than cozy. He lit a couple of candles and an incense stick and then opened his closet door.   
  
What am I supposed to do, she thought. She had no idea what he was doing. She sipped at her drink and stared out the window as he rifled through his closet for... for what? Most guys keep them in their dresser drawers... go figure, he'd be the oddball who kept his...   
  
"Got a new acoustic guitar," he smiled proudly, pulling his new acquisition out of its hard-shell case.   
  
He handed it to her as she gave him her brandy glass and he watched her face for any signs of recognition. He couldn't help but grin when the look of awe washed over her delicate features in the candlelight.   
  
"Oh my God," she whispered, running her fingers over the neck of the guitar. She looked up at him, slack-jawed. Her eyes were shining with excitement. "Do you have any idea what this is?"   
  
"Would like to think so," he teased. "But why don't you tell me, Kitten."   
  
He sat across from her on the bed and watched as her fingers formed chords along the neck and she began to strum.   
  
"This is a 1969 Martin D41," she said, still strumming lightly. "Did you know that there were only 39 of these ever made? You own a piece of history! Oh my God, this must have cost a fortune."   
  
He was beyond impressed. The girl had nailed it right on the head. Not only did she know what a gem she was holding, she knew how to play it. God, could I love her any more than I do at this moment, his subconscious screamed. Where the Hell had that come from, he thought.  
  
"Don't know. Da sent it for my birthday a few months back. I've been meaning to bring it home to show you," he told her. "Knew you'd be the only one to appreciate it."   
  
"Appreciate it?" she asked, wide-eyed. "This is... incredible, Will. It's mint! Just look at it! Not a scratch on it. The neck is perfect, no bowing at all! And the action is awesome! This is one Hell of a birthday present. Sure it wasn't birthday bribery to get you to move to England?"   
  
"Maybe a little," he admitted. "But you don't see me leaving, do you?"   
  
She smiled. Nope. He wasn't leaving. And that was definately of the good.   
  
"Play me something," he suddenly told her.   
  
"Huh?" She was still dazed by the beautiful instrument she was holding and the soundtrack being played out by the steady drum of rain, claps of thunder and cracks of lightning.   
  
"Just a little music between friends," he told her. "We'll save the real audition for Xander and Oz. Play me something you like. Something that tells me..." He thought for a second. "Something that tells me who Buffy Summers really is."   
  
She was taken off-guard by his request. She thought for a moment, staring at her hand where it rested on the top of the guitar's rosewood body.   
  
"There was an acoustic group I went to see for the first time about six months ago... up by UC Sunnydale at the Bronze?"   
  
He nodded. He knew exactly where it was.   
  
"Yeah... I've seen them a few times now. They were at the Covered Dish last month. They're supposed to be back there next month. You should go check them out... they're called House of Dreams," she told him. "Anyhow, they did this song I just loved... well, I'll just play it for you."   
  
She began picking at the strings, trying to ignore the fact that he was watching her in fascination.   
  
"Eyes wide open, the first day   
  
A fallen star has found its way   
  
The part's been cast, begin the play.   
  
A pebble into a pond makes ripples   
  
It makes its way 'cross little by little   
  
The power to change the world   
  
There's nothing like Life's First Breath..."   
  
He continued to watch as she played. Her eyes were closed and he imagined that she was off in her own world now, as it should be. There was nothing but her and the music. That's what it was all about. And he realized, in that moment, that Buffy was the only one who understood that.   
  
"What religion will he choose?   
  
A winner, yes? Or will he lose?   
  
Or will he lose?   
  
A pebble into a pond makes ripples   
  
It makes its way 'cross little by little   
  
The power to change the world   
  
There's nothing like Life's First Breath..."   
  
She opened her eyes when she was done to see him still watching her, his eyes glazed over a bit with emotion.   
  
"That probably didn't sound half as good as when Britton and Jack sing it, but you get the idea," she said softly. "It was just a song that really stood out to me when I heard it. I think... I think I fell in love with it right on the spot."   
  
I think I've just fallen in love with you right on the spot, he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Spike was afraid to say anything that might break the moment. He could sit there and just watch her all night. He was sure of that. She handed him back the guitar and he leaned it against the wall without taking his eyes off of her. She reached her hand out to take back her glass from him and felt her heart start thudding heavily again as their fingers brushed. She could feel his eyes following her every move as she raised the glass to her lips and sipped a bit of brandy.   
  
Buffy wasn't sure just what it was that was making her feel so warm from the inside out... was it the brandy? Or was it the way Spike was watching her so intently? Nobody had ever looked at her the way that he was. It made her insides quake with nervous anticipation. He was looking at her like he wanted to kiss her. No... like he wanted to devour her. There was an unmistakable hunger in his eyes and it burned through her to her very core.   
  
She turned to look out the window. The wind had picked up quite a bit and it had stirred the pounding sluice of rain into a frenzy. Molly hadn't been kidding when she warned them about the storm. This was the mother of them all. The thunder rolled in a steady roar that made Buffy shudder. She thought back to something she'd learned in science... on-coming tornadoes sound like freight trains. Did that sound like a freight train? She didn't even want to think about it. It hardly ever rained in California, but when it did, it was as if the sky opened up and threatened to swallow the earth whole.   
  
The thunder crashed mercilessly followed by a bright crackle of lightning and the power went out. Spike's clock-radio no longer flashed red at them. It went dark. The light that had been eminating from the living room had snapped off and all that was keeping them from total darkness was the candles Spike had lit when he brought her into his room.   
  
She felt her skin prickle with nervous energy as she turned back to look at him. His eyes were stormy with desire and she couldn't help but visibly quiver.   
  
"You okay, Kitten?" he asked, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.   
  
She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't form any words. She nodded and darted her eyes back down to the glass in her hands. She felt drunk, but knew it had nothing to do with the liqueur she had been sipping. The powerful storm was dizzying, but the combination of love and lust in Spike's eyes was her undoing.   
  
He reached out to pull her to him.   
  
"Come here, Pet." His voice was deliciously silky.   
  
She moved into his embrace, her back against his chest. He ran his hands down her arms, instantly producing a series of goosebumps.   
  
"Getting a little chilly, Love?" he asked.   
  
She shook her head to let him know she wasn't. No. Her skin's reaction wasn't from the chill the air conditioner had left in the room. It was from the soft caress of his roughened hands as they swept over her bare arms and shoulders.   
  
"My Mum used to be terrified of storms," he told her, guessing that she was a little more afraid than she was letting on. "Da would sit for hours with her... reading her poetry, rubbing her back... just quietly comforting her. I don't know what fascinated me more... the force of nature going on outside the house, or the force of nature within. He'd soothe her with his words, his voice and his touch."   
  
Buffy realized that Spike never really talked about his mother. She knew that Anne had died when he was only 5 years old. She hadn't suffered. She'd been ripped from his world just as quickly as he'd been thrust into hers. Her death was swift and unexpected; a trip to Sarlat to see her sister, a ride through the French countryside, an unforeseen obstacle of the bovine persuasion in the roadway... and her young life ended as the driver swerved to avoid the beast and toppled them into a ravine along the side of the road.   
  
Rupert had been devastated. He had no idea how to raise his young son alone. He was plagued by the constant memories of Anne wherever he turned. The drive down James Watt Queensway into Edgbaston to University would often result in a meltdown by the time he made it to the car park. A business trip that led him to Snow Hill Station would leave him shaking with grief in his train compartment nearly all the way to his final destination. A picnic with William in Lickey Park that had started out as a quiet father-son play date could be destroyed easily by a blonde Geordie and her companion clicking away in their pronounced accents so much like Anne's.   
  
Rupert could no longer take the haunting memories and decided to leave the Mother Country behind for the States. All young William had wanted was to see his father smile again. And after years of living as bachelors, Rupert had met and eventually married Honey Chase, a divorcee and aspiring actress, and moved the combined family into their new home nestled in the center of the Sunnydale hub.   
  
Buffy relaxed into Spike's arms even more. He made her feel safe. It was very clear that he cared about what she thought and how she was feeling. Little things he'd said throughout the day had made her question and then second-guess his intentions. Did she have a boyfriend? Would she be heartbroken if he drowned?   
  
"Storm's really picking up," he murmured, his chin resting on her shoulder. She could feel his breath tickling her ear as she continued sipping at her drink. "It is pretty to watch, though. Don't you think, Kitten?"   
  
She nodded again. She was positive that if she tried to say anything, nothing more than a croak would come out. All she wanted was to get lost in the dulcet tones of his voice and the warmth of his body as it pressed against hers.   
  
"Still want to play your little truth game?" he asked her playfully.   
  
She nodded again.   
  
"Ask me why I still come home, Buffy," he told her, his voice soft and low. He stilled his hands on her arms and waited for her to rise to the challenge.   
  
She took another sip of her brandy and closed her eyes.   
  
"Why..." She barely recognized her own voice. It was raspy, barely a whisper. "Why do you still come home, Will?" she asked, praying that the answer was what she thought it was.   
  
He dropped a soft kiss on her shoulder and nuzzled her neck with his nose before answering.   
  
"You," he whispered into her ear. "I come home only for you."   
  
She shivered as he nibbled on her earlobe and set her glass on the sill of the bay window. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. She was nobody.   
  
"No," she tried to protest. "No you don't, but thanks for saying it."   
  
He had to be lying. He had to be saying it to be nice. She was nobody... nothing. He was... everything. He was all she could think about since she first laid eyes on him. He was what she could never have. He was like the holy grail -- beautiful, effulgent and always just slightly out of reach.   
  
He pulled her into his lap and made her look at him.   
  
"Summers, I'm drowning in you," he admitted. "I don't know when it started or how it began... all I know is that you're in my bones, always buzzing just below the surface of my skin. You're in every song I hear... in every face I see. You get me... the way that nobody else can."   
  
Her eyes were wide with a mixture of adoration and fear. She was scared to death of what he was telling her. It was everything she had ever wanted yet, at the same time, it made her want to run. If she laid herself open to him, wouldn't he leave? That's what they did, right? When she gave her heart to someone, they said 'aw, that's nice' and then they left. Her father had done it. Her so-called friends were doing it all the time. Her mother had made it clear that she had no use for her either. Why should he be any different?   
  
"I don't expect you to feel the same way, but..." He sucked in a sharp intake of breath and took her hand in his. "I need you to know how I feel, Kitten. Since I was a little boy... since Mum died... my life has been nothing but chaos. Da pulling into himself and then forcing this new family on me... standing by and watching his loneliness become his mistress... knowing that every time he left the house, Honey was on the phone with the next prospect... seeing Queen C go from a slightly spoilt little girl to a selfish, cold-hearted woman. The only constant in my life has been you. Your strength. Your kindness. Your will and determination."   
  
She looked down at their joined hands and moved her thumb in slow, circles over the smooth skin between his thumb and finger. Why was he saying all of these wonderful things to her? Why was he making her feel safe and wanted and... loved?   
  
"Kitten, look at me, please," he pleaded.   
  
She looked back up into his eyes. Please, Will... don't be lying to me. Don't be saying these things to me and not mean them, she thought. She searched his face for any sign that what he was saying wasn't true. Oh, God... he's telling me the truth, she panicked.   
  
"You're everything to me, Buffy," he swore to her, tears shining in his eyes. "You raise me up, Love. You give me a reason to succeed... a reason to be. You're the one. Answer me this... why do you still come here? And don't tell me because Cordy still asks."   
  
It's now or never. Do or die. If he wasn't looking at her the way that he was... she would have lied to avoid getting her heart ripped out. Nobody had ever looked at her like that. Ever. Spike's eyes were truly the windows to his soul. And to his heart. He loved her. The black of his pupils screamed it. The blue of his irises echoed it. His unwavering gaze confirmed it. The declaration was silent and sincere.   
  
"Because I love you," she whispered, surprising herself by her own admission. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. She'd only meant to tell him that she still came to Cordy's because of him, but her heart governed her mind and voiced its own affirmation.   
  
He watched as her eyes turned wide and frightened, clearly surprised by her own words. They'd slipped out naturally, truthfully. He felt the tears warming his cheeks at her simple statement. She loved him.   
  
"Oh... God," she stammered. "I didn't... I--"   
  
"Don't you dare take it back," he told her. "Don't you dare! It would kill me."   
  
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him so that he could bury his face in her neck. She smelled sweet and innocent. The cherry-vanilla fragrance radiated from her rapid pulse.   
  
"Love you so much, Kitten," he practically whimpered.   
  
Her hands moved to stroke his hair. She had always admired his passion and his heart. If anything, Spike had too much heart. He was expressive and full of untapped benificence. He had been holding it all in for her. No one else had ever had his heart. No one else had ever seen his soul.   
  
She felt her own tears sliding down her cheeks and sniffed them back.   
  
"I love you, too, Will. I do. So much," she cried.   
  
He pulled back to look at her beautiful face. So much passion. He didn't even think she was aware of just how much passion she had. He leaned in slowly, stroking the tears from her cheek, and captured her lips in his. He sipped gently at her bottom lip until she let out a soft moan. When her lips parted, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and sought out hers.   
  
Buffy's head was spinning. She had never been this close to a man. She had never had a boyfriend. Had never wanted anyone but Spike. She wasn't even sure if she was kissing him properly. He seemed to sense her apprehension as he reluctantly pulled back with smiling eyes.   
  
"We still telling the truth, Kitten?" he asked with a bit of confusion in his voice.   
  
"Always," she told him, vaguely aware of what he was going to ask her.   
  
"Am I... have you..."   
  
"Yes. And no," she finished for him. "You're the only one, Will. Only you."   
  
He felt a peckish pride in his chest at knowing that she was only his.   
  
"You're all I've ever wanted. And I refused to settle for anything less," she told him nervously.   
  
"You're mine?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side.   
  
"Yours," she promised. "Always."


	7. Chapter 7

To Hell with the rest of the world, Buffy was his. Spike knew that he could die right now and know that he'd had everything he had ever wanted or needed in his life... her love.   
  
Her head lay against his chest contentedly. She could hear his heart beating out a steady rhythm against her ear. The only question left was why had she waited so long to tell him how she felt? She sighed as he stroked her hair with a gentle hand. His other arm remained wrapped protectively around her form where it curled against him.   
  
"Promise me something, Will," she said, her voice full of trepidation.   
  
"Anything, Kitten." He wondered what could be making her sound so frightened.   
  
"Promise me you'll never leave me," she pleaded. "Because I just... I just can't go through that again. I just can't give you all of my heart and watch you leave."   
  
She tilted her head up to read his eyes. She could see the question in them.   
  
"They all leave, Will.. my Dad... my friends... my Mom... I..." She tried to compose herself, fight off the threatening tears. "I couldn't bear it if you left me, too, Will. That would hurt the most."   
  
"Shh, Love," he soothed her. "Cross my heart. I'll never leave you. You're my world."   
  
She smiled and lifted her lips to meet his. Her kiss was shy and slow. Her eyes rolled closed as his lips yielded to hers. He felt the tip of her tongue as she licked at his bottom lip with a kittenish innocense. She was bloody perfect. She tasted like sunshine and starlight. She was the living, breathing definition of chiaroscuro. She was the light that shone bright in the darkness, guiding him home. And she was the dark mystery, a contradiction of everything she seemed. He deepened the kiss as his hands slid under her shirt to stroke the warm skin at the base of her spine.   
  
She moaned and arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest in the process.   
  
"Take it off," she whispered as her eyes met his.   
  
His hands were clutching the hem of her tank top and he didn't need to be told twice. He nodded and lifted the soft, grey material over her head. The lacy confection of deep, cherry red she wore beneath it barely concealed her pebbled nipples. His breath hitched as he traced his hand down her cheek, her neck, stopping to run his fingers across her collarbone before gliding them over her lace-covered breast. She mewled out her pleasure when he began to scrape a fingertip across her hardened nipple.   
  
"That what you want, Kitten?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. "You want me to touch you here?" He cupped his hand over the soft mound, letting his palm caress its firm pink center. "Like this?"   
  
"Mmm... Oh, God... yes, Will," she whimpered.   
  
He kissed her again, this time more greedily. He needed to taste her. He needed to touch her everywhere. He had never felt this way in his life. Want was an easy thing. So was desire. But Buffy awakened a need in him he hadn't even been aware of until that moment. And he needed her to own him. He needed to be completely hers.   
  
She straddled his lap and gasped when she felt him already hard beneath her. There was no turning back now. And she didn't want to. She needed him in the most carnal way. She needed him to love her completely.   
  
Her hands slipped to the bottom of his t-shirt and she lifted it slowly. She felt his stomach against hers as the smattering of light hair tickled her. She let her hands lightly brush his nipples as she moved the shirt further up his chest. He lifted his arms and helped her remove the remainder of the shirt.   
  
So, Soul to Soul I know how it feels Between lover to lover (we're gonna be) So, Soul to Soul Like a magnet to steel Just like lover to lover (we're gonna be)...   
  
She breathlessly moved her hands over the expanse of his bare chest. He smiled as he watched her fascination with his body. He leaned in to kiss her forehead before moving his hands down her back to find the clasp of her bra. He silently asked for permission and she responded with an encouraging smile. His hands fumbled like an inexperienced schoolboy's as he unlatched the hooks. She had reduced him to this... to a puddle of his own desire. Her eyes were wide and trusting as he slid the straps down her arms. She let the bra fall between them before moving it to the side.   
  
She chewed her lip in nervous anticipation to his reaction. She wasn't naive. She knew that he had been with other women. And a part of her worried that she wouldn't measure up. She had no idea how wrong she was. He was enthralled by her innocent beauty. He revered her like a porcelain doll... awed by her beauty, surprised by her strength.   
  
She lay against him needing desperately to feel his skin against hers. His hands traced a line up her spine and tangled into the soft hair at the nape of her neck. She could feel him harden even more beneath her.   
  
"Tell me to stop, Buffy," he told her, searching her eyes for any doubt about what they were about to do.   
  
"Don't stop," she whispered instead.   
  
"Tell me you don't want me," he challaneged.   
  
"I want you," she breathed, slipping her hand down between them to stroke him through his clothes.   
  
He moaned his pleasure into her waiting mouth as her hand sought for the waistband of his sweatpants. She curled her fingers around the elastic as his tongue tickled the roof of her mouth.   
  
"Tell me you're not ready," he tried, one last time.   
  
"I'm so very ready," she swore with a penetrating gaze.   
  
"I need to hear you say it, Buffy. I need..." His thoughts slipped away as her hand slid inside his pants to find that there was no other barrier between it and his cock. "Oh, God, Buffy..."   
  
"I love you, Will," she whispered into his ear. Her hand was deliciously stroking the silky skin of his shaft as she flicked her tongue into his ear. "I want you to make love to me. Now, Will. I need you now." 


	8. Chapter 8

Spike was sure that he was going to Hell for what he had just done, but he had definately tasted Heaven at the precise moment Buffy cried out his name in release. At first, he had been scared to death of hurting her. Then, he was positive she'd regret it. And then, he was worried that a part of him would regret it. But it all fell away in that single moment as she cried out his name in ecstasy. She wasn't his first. But she was the first one to make him hers. She was the only one to possess him with the use of his given name. To the others, he'd been Spike. Or the occasional God. To Buffy, he had always been Will. Hers.   
  
The power still had not come back on and the storm showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. He rifled around his dresser top for his wristwatch. It was already nearing midnight. Buffy had drifted off in his bed and he pulled the covers up over her naked body. She really was perfect. Everything about her. Even in her sleep, she would sigh softly or her mouth would twitch into a little smile. He grabbed his guitar and sat on the edge of the bed, strumming softly as he watched her slumber.   
  
He continued to strum as his mind worked in circles. For the first time in his life, he felt like anything was possible. He felt like he could be somebody his late mother would be proud of. He felt like he could find the strength to forgive Rupert for bringing him to the States and then leaving him behind. And it was all because of her.   
  
He set the guitar back down and went to his desk to dig out a notebook and a pen. Something about making love to her inspired him. He let the words write themselves, occasionally stealing glances at her when she would stir.   
  
Cry for me, and I'll cry for you   
  
Laugh for me, and I'll laugh some, too   
  
Ooh, that never was enough   
  
The words felt like they were writing themselves. Nobody had ever given him the uncontrollable desire to write. Sometimes, it came more easily than others. Other times, it was a bloody struggle to force out the words. The easier times usually resulted in more aggressive songs written primarily from that dark, angry place. He'd never been able to effortlessly scribe something beautiful. Something from the softest, brightest place in his heart.   
  
I'll put my heart on a highwire   
  
Or my soul on a sign   
  
Set my mind on fire   
  
Put my love on the line   
  
And it's All Because of You   
  
Ooh-ooh   
  
Everything. He wanted to do everything for her.   
  
You picked me up, when I fell down   
  
I got lost, you turned me around   
  
It never was enough... until   
  
You put my heart on a highwire   
  
And my soul on a sign   
  
Set my mind on fire   
  
Put my love on the line   
  
Well, it's All Because of You   
  
Ooh-ooh   
  
It's All Because of You   
  
You know it's true   
  
It's All Because of You   
  
She let out a little sigh and murmured his name while she dreamt. He couldn't help but smile as he continued writing down his thoughts. He couldn't wait to surprise her with the song.   
  
With nothing left unsaid   
  
My mind is easily read   
  
Hearts hanging   
  
Hearts hanging out   
  
Hearts hanging out to dry...   
  
So put my heart on a highwire   
  
Put my soul on a sign   
  
Set my mind on fire   
  
Put my love on the line   
  
Well, it's All Because of You   
  
Ooh-ooh   
  
It's All Because of You   
  
You know it's true   
  
It's All Because of You...   
  
He closed the notebook and sat it on his dresser. She rolled over and reached out to the empty space beside her. Realizing he was gone, she licked her lips and fluttered open her eyes.   
  
"Will?"   
  
"Right here, Baby," he told her, moving back to her side.   
  
"Mmm... come back to bed," she said, her voice thick with sleep. "Miss you."   
  
He slid under the covers beside her and wrapped his arms around her. He would be happy lying beside her for the rest of his life. But, the real world would eventually call. The sun would rise, Queen C would come bounding home to take over the roost once again and he'd take Buffy to her house and head back to the dorm room he shared with Oz and Xander at UC Sunnydale.   
  
"Love you so much, Buffy," he swore to her.   
  
She turned toward him and lay her head on his chest. She knew he did. She could hear it in his chest as his heart raced under her ear. She traced a pattern around his nipple with her finger tip, her eyes still closed peacefully. She never wanted to be away from him again. That made her dread sunrise even more. She'd have to go home eventually. And he'd go back to college across town. Another week would stretch by painfully before she could be with him like this again.   
  
"You asleep, Kitten?" he asked quietly.   
  
"No, just thinking," she said truthfully.   
  
"What about?"   
  
"Where do we go from here, Will?" she blurted out.   
  
"I thought we'd sleep for awhile, then probably scavenge up something to eat, spend the day snogging..."   
  
"No, I meant... the big picture, Will," she said, her voice edged with worry. "I.. am I a bad person because I really don't care what Cordy thinks?"   
  
He chuckled a little and his chest vibrated against her cheek.   
  
"Do you think the Cheerleader cares about what you think, Love?" he asked. "Honestly, now."   
  
She supposed he was right. If anything, Cordy would give her the 'world of euw' speech and then turn the conversation back to focus on her.   
  
"What about your friends?" she asked nervously.   
  
"What about them?" he asked her.   
  
"I'm still in high school," she worried.   
  
"For a few more months. Then you'll be at UC with me," he reminded her. "Besides, I know they'll love you, Kitten. I do."   
  
She smiled gratefully.   
  
"How about I take you to practice with me tomorrow night at the Bronze?" he offered. "You can meet my mates, I'll give Willow and Tara a call and have them come around. If you fancy, you can sit in on a few songs and try on the band for size. See if you like how it fits, yeah?"   
  
"Okay," she told him. "Yeah. That would be nice."   
  
"Now close your eyes and get some rest, Kitten. We can worry about tomorrow when it gets here."


	9. Chapter 9

Buffy giggled as Spike slid the loofah down her back, tickling her spine in the most wonderful way. They had managed to crawl out of bed a little before noon after another round of lovemaking. The power had come back on sometime before sun-up and the house was like a meat locker from when Spike had lowered the thermostat the night before.   
  
"Nothing like a hot shower to take off the chill, Pet." Spike grinned as he slid the loofah around to her belly.   
  
"Mmm-hmm," she agreed. "Definately heats things up."   
  
The two were so rapt in each other that they didn't hear the deadbolt turn. They didn't hear Max yip excitedly as Cordelia and Harmony entered the house. They didn't hear the snide remarks being exchanged over the presence of a pair of breakfast dishes still on the table with the remains of egg and toast still sitting on them.   
  
"Good grief! He's probably got that psycho slut, Drusilla here. Remember her? That whacko that was in his band?" Cordy asked Harmony with a roll of her eyes.   
  
"I thought she was that Ox guy's girlfriend," Harmony said with a furrowed brow as she walked into Cordy's room. The clothes on the bed looked like Buffy's. But she'd gone home Saturday morning, hadn't she?   
  
"Oz. And no. Spike said she was 'shagging' anything with a penis," Cordy called from the living room. "He probably has one of those."   
  
Harmony walked back into the living room with a puzzled look on her face.   
  
"Cord," she began tentatively. "Didn't Buffy say she was going home yesterday morning?"   
  
"Yeah," Cordy told her, spying the bottle of brandy on the coffee table. She picked it up and walked it back over the the wet bar. "I kind of feel bad for subjecting her to Spike and then blowing her off when we were supposed to go to the beach yesterday."   
  
"You do?" Harmony asked, surprised.   
  
Cordy was thoughtful for a moment.   
  
"No," she admitted with a shrug and a smirk. "Not so much. But I feel better now that I've said that I did."   
  
Spike reached down to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower to retrieve a towel. He wrapped it around his waist, still dripping wet, grabbed another and set to rubbing Buffy's heated skin.   
  
"God, I'm such a slut," she giggled.   
  
He continued rubbing at her skin and hair.   
  
"Why would you say that, Kitten?" he asked, a little confused.   
  
"Because all I can think about is crawling back into bed with you," she grinned.   
  
He wrapped the towel around her and pulled her to him. He kissed her tenderly and then lifted her up, making her laugh even louder.   
  
"I supposed that can be arranged," he told her with a wicked leer that thrilled her.   
  
They were still giggling as he walked out into the hall with her in his arms.   
  
"Holy. Shit."   
  
He just about dropped the girl in his arms to the floor at the sound of his step-sister's shocked voice.   
  
"Buffy?" Harmony shrieked incredulously.   
  
"Oh my God," Buffy whispered, burying her head in the crook of Spike's neck.   
  
"Just what the Hell is going on here?" Cordy demanded to know. "And before I forget... EUW!" she yelled.   
  
Spike set Buffy back down and told her to go get dressed. She obediently padded down the hall and into Cordy's bedroom, trying her best to avoid the heated glare being sent her way by the none-too-pleased brunette.   
  
"I'm going to get dressed," he told her. "And then you, me and Buffy are going to sit down and suss this out."   
  
Cordy opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Spike again.   
  
"It'll keep 'til we're dressed, Cor."   
  
He went into his room and shut the door behind hm.   
  
Buffy threw on her clothes and then began stuffing her things back into her overnight bag. She was so embarrassed. It wasn't her relationship with Spike that she was flustered about, but getting caught coming out of the shower with him, well, that was a little embarrassing. She shuddered at the thought of having to face the Vapid Inquisition.   
  
She walked back into the living room to find Spike already sitting on the couch waiting for her. Cordy was sitting on the other end of the sectional with her arms crossed in front of her chest, clearly closed off to hearing any logical explanation as to what her step-brother and her somewhat friend were doing coming out of the bathroom clothed only in towels. Harmony was sitting beside her trying to look interested in her cuticles.   
  
"I don't even think I want to know what's going on," Cordelia told them, thoroughly disgusted.   
  
Buffy scooted close to Spike and tried to relax as he draped his arm protectively around her shoulders. This was so not going to be fun.   
  
"How long has this been going on?" she wanted to know.   
  
"It, uh... just kind of happened last night," Buffy stammered.   
  
"Uh-huh." Cordy's eyebrow shot up indicating that they would have to do a little better than that.   
  
"I've cared about Buffy for quite some time now, Cordelia," he told her. He felt Buffy's hand move to his thigh and give it an encouraging squeeze. "If anything, Pet, we've you to thank for getting us together."   
  
"Me?" she shrieked. "Me? Don't go blaming me for this little mess!"   
  
"I don't know, Cord. They are kind of cute together," Harmony said, absently picking at the frayed edge of her shorts.   
  
"Euw! Knock it off already," Cordy scowled. "I'd like to hear just how the Hell you think I'm responsible for this freakin' nightmare."   
  
"You invite Buffy over every weekend and then you and Harmony take off with your boyfriends," Spike explained to her. "She intercepts your calls, she takes care of Max and then you blow her off for something better. Then I get home to find her studying on the couch or watching TV by herself. We started talking. We have a lot in common. We enjoy each other's company. Isn't that why you're with Peaches?"   
  
"Not particularly." Cordy was still making her 'euw' faces. "He has a nice car, he's captain of the football team, his dad owns VisionCorp Sunnydale and, fortunately for him, he has a pretty big di--"   
  
"Dictionary!" Harmony interjected when she saw Buffy's face go pink. "He has a pretty big dictionary and we go over there because he, uh, he tutors us. We're terrible with vocabulary."   
  
As true as the need for a tutor was, Spike and Buffy both knew that wasn't the reason that Cordy and Harmony went over to Angel's house.   
  
"Hello? I was talking," Cordy said, casting a hateful glare at her blonde counterpart.   
  
"Was just trying to help, Cord. You know... hard to make with the 'euw, this is so wrong and gross' if you're the pot."   
  
"Huh?"   
  
Sometimes Cordelia was certain that Harmony was even more stupid than she appeared.   
  
"As in Pot," she said, turning to Cordy. "Meet Mr. and Mrs. Kettle," she finished, turning toward Spike and Buffy.   
  
"Whatever," Cordy said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I just don't even know what to say."   
  
"Then say nothing for a change," Buffy managed to grind out. "I love Will. I've loved him since I was 12 years old. And Will loves me. You have Angel and you have your friends and I've been aware for quite some time now that I'm really not one of them anymore."   
  
"I'm hurt that you would say that, Buffy," Cordy pouted.   
  
"No, you're not. You're insensitive. And shallow," Buffy told her. "To hurt would imply that you actually cared. And we both know that the only person that Cordelia Chase cares about is Cordelia Chase."   
  
Cordelia tried to milk the hurt act a little more. She turned to Harmony and asked her if she'd call her shallow.   
  
"No," Harmony said defensively. "Not to your face."   
  
This earned her a few grins and giggles from the blonde duo sitting across from her. What the Hell? They were cute. Spike wasn't as 'euw' as Cordy made him out to be. He had great hair. And a pretty decent bod. And the accent was totally yummy. Harmony would be a liar if she said that she'd never thought of him as date-able herself.   
  
"You're just all 'euw' because he's your step-brother, Cordy," Harmony said in Spike's defense. "I mean, take away the fact that he was a total dork with his shaggy, brown hair and his geeky glasses when you first met him. And the freakin' tweedy clothes his dad dressed him in. It's not like that was totally his fault. And the way he used to stutter all the time. And--"   
  
"You're not doing me any favors here, love," Spike smirked.   
  
"I'm just saying, you know... take away the William we met five years ago, and Spike's kind of hot in a totally 'Billy Idol used to be cool' kind of way," Harmony continued.   
  
Harmony didn't know what had gotten into her, but something in her suddenly felt protective of Spike and Buffy. She supposed it could have been the way Cordy expected her to follow after her like a puppy dog. Or maybe it was the fact that she realized that she really liked Gunn even though Cordy wanted to fix her up with Angel's cousin, Connor.   
  
She had told Cordy over and over that she had no interest in hanging out with Connor, yet Cordy told Angel to set it up anyhow. And he did. It was beyond uncomfortable sitting there with Gunn while Cordy and Angel pointed out Connor's finer points as if Harmony could not make her own decisions when it came to the guys she dated. She had plenty of experience in the boyfriend department. She'd gone through one a week before she met Gunn.   
  
"You're supposed to be on my side!" Cordy yelled.   
  
"Like you were on my side when you tried to push Connor on me right in front of my Brown-Sugar-Bear?" Harmony retaliated.   
  
"I was trying to help you! Gunn's popularity is totally on the decline since he lost that football scholarship to UCLA. He's just another UC Sunnydale loser now!" Cordy spat.   
  
"Well, I guess that makes me another UC Sunnydale loser, too," Harmony told her in a defeated voice. "I mean, if I can even get in at all after screwing off with you all year." She turned to Spike and Buffy, angling for sympathy. "My grades totally suck. I'm barely graduating and my parents have threatened to cut me off if I don't get into some college. They'd even be happy with community college at this point," she admitted sadly.   
  
"Oh, and now the fact that you're a moron is my fault, too?" Cordy asked, her eyes narrowed onto her friend's, daring her to agree.   
  
"I didn't say that, Cordelia. All I'm saying is that maybe I should have been using Buffy for tutoring instead of phone screener all these weekends," she said. She shot an apologetic glance at Buffy. "I mean, I should have not been using you at all, but... I'm way so bad at this. Please tell me you know what I mean."   
  
Buffy looked up at the smirk on Spike's face and shook her head.   
  
"I know what you mean, Harmony," she told the cheerleader.   
  
What the Hell. Harmony had come to their defense in her own twisted way. She was just as much a victim of Cordelia's tyranny as anyone else, Buffy supposed.   
  
"Are we done here?" Spike suddenly asked. "Because I'd like to take my girl to drop off her things before we head on over to band practice."   
  
"Ugh!" Cordy growled, disgusted. "Whatever! Just don't go doing anything naked when I'm around. Or kissing. Don't do that in front of me either. Or any other perverted touching of any kind. And is there any room in this house I don't need to fumigate..."   
  
Cordy was still prattling on as Spike leaned down to press a long kiss to Buffy's smiling lips.   
  
"Euw! Do you two not listen at all?" she shouted. "I said to stop making with the kissage! Gross! And stop it! STOP it!"   
  
Buffy and Spike ignored her loud protests and continued nuzzling and nipping at each other.   
  
"Oh, God. I just... I give up!"   
  
Cordy stormed into her bedroom, threw Buffy's bag into the living room and slammed the door behind her. Harmony giggled as she watched the blonde pair whisper endearments to each other.   
  
"Can I catch a ride home with you guys?" she asked, interrupting them. She only lived a block over from Buffy.   
  
"Yeah, but I call shotgun," Buffy grinned.


	10. Chapter 10

The back door to the Bronze was propped open when Spike and Buffy arrived. She caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man as he carried a handful of cymbal stands and a long, thin gig bag into the building.   
  
"Xander," Spike called after him. "Wait up."   
  
Xander stopped and waited for them to catch up. He gave Buffy the once-over and then grinned at Spike.   
  
"And who might this be?" he asked a little too eagerly as they continued walking together.   
  
He set his hardware down when he got to the stage, propping the stands up against the back wall of the drum riser. He laid the small gig bag next to his already set-up shells. Buffy figured he carried his sticks and brushes in the small bag. It looked about the right size.   
  
"This might be my girlfriend, Buffy," Spike told him with a warning glare.   
  
"Might be?" Xander pressed. He shot Buffy a mischievous smile. "That might mean she's available, then."   
  
"I don't think so, Bub," Buffy teased right back. "And what's with this might stuff, huh Will?"   
  
Spike tightened his grip on her waist and growled softly into her neck before lightly nipping it.   
  
"Mine?" he asked making her giggle.   
  
"So barbaric," she breathed. "Of course. Yours."   
  
Spike turned back to Xander who was busily twisting the bolts around the snare head with a chrome key. He tapped and made a face before tightening down the head a little more.   
  
"Buffy, this is Xander Harris," he introduced. "Harris, my girlfriend Buffy Summers."   
  
Xander smiled up at her, continuing to tune his snare drum.   
  
"Well, any girlfriend of Spike's is a girlfriend of mine," he said with a wink. Spike scowled and he amended his earlier remark. "Emphasis on the friend part, of course. And you're obviously a girl. Girl. And friend. Not without the space between."   
  
Buffy nodded her head to indicate she got it as she watched him continue to coax the head even tighter.   
  
"You should try Evans," she told him.   
  
He looked up, puzzled.   
  
"Yeah, if you're looking for a crisper tone out of your snare. Evans makes a really good dry head. Gives it a real nice snap. More so than the Remo hydraulic you're using," she observed.   
  
Xander dropped the key on the ground and stared up at her slack-jawed.   
  
"I,uh, play snare in marching band," she explained quickly. "Just an observation. Don't mind me. I didn't mean to imply that--"   
  
"I love you," Xander squeaked out and then darted his eyes to meet Spike's. "I love her, dude. If you ever break up, can I have her?"   
  
Spike shook his head and chuckled. Break up? He had no intention of ever ending his romance with Buffy. She was the one. Harris would have to go find his own girl.   
  
"At least tell me you have a sister just like you," Xander pleaded.   
  
"Nope. Just me," Buffy said apologetically.   
  
"Well, I'm glad you like her so much, Mate," Spike said, deciding to test the waters with Xander. "I was thinking we might give her a go on vocals."   
  
Xander looked from Spike to Buffy and back to Spike again.   
  
"She sings, too?" he asked.   
  
"Who sings, too?" asked a young man with blue-tipped hair.   
  
"Oz, good to see you Mate," Spike smiled at his bass player. "This is my girlfriend, Buffy. Buffy, Daniel Osbourne... Oz."   
  
Oz laid his gig bag on the stage and turned to extend his hand to Buffy. He was about the same height as she was with spiky light red-hair with cobalt blue tips.   
  
"Buffy," she nodded with a tight smile. "Short for...?"   
  
"For Buffy. Just Buffy," she told him.   
  
"Hmm.... interesting," he said with a smirk. "Right, then. You sing?"   
  
"That's what Will tells me," she joked.   
  
Oz nodded.   
  
"Will is...?"   
  
"Me, you stupid git," Spike ground out at him.   
  
"Riiiiight... right." Oz was nodding his head looking at the two blondes, his face etched with curiosity.   
  
"You!" he suddenly said, pointing at Buffy. "The Damned concert."   
  
He had an uncharacteristically huge grin on his face. She was the girl who had made Drusilla look like an ass. He'd had to hear Dru bitch about Little Miss Sunshine all the way home. He definately liked Buffy.   
  
"Hmm," he said, his face pensive once again. "Good. Very good."   
  
He began busying himself with his bass rig while Spike filled in Buffy on the finer aspects of Oz's laconic demeanor.   
  
"He's a man of few words, but he always makes his point loud and clear," he explained.   
  
"So... I should take it that he likes me?" Buffy asked, hopeful.   
  
"Oh, yeah. He definately likes you, Baby," Spike told her. "You're the girl who knocked Dru down a few pegs. Remember?"   
  
Buffy remembered.   
  
"Spike!"   
  
Buffy's head turned to identify the female voice that was squealing her boyfriend's name. A slight red-head came bounding up tugging a shy blonde girl behind her.   
  
She let go of the girl's hand long enough to pull Spike into a warm hug. The other girl gave him a quick hug, too, and then turned to Buffy with a little smile.   
  
"I'm Tara, Willow's girlfriend," she told Buffy, not wanting to let the girl think that either of them was after her new boyfriend. "You must be Buffy."   
  
"I am," Buffy smiled back. There was something about Tara that immediately put her at ease.   
  
Willow turned to her and pulled her into a hug. Friendly thing, she was. She looked at Buffy with a wide smile and then back to Spike.   
  
"Oh, Spike! She's perfect! Just perfect!" she gushed. She turned to Tara and grabbed her hand. "Isn't she just perfect, Baby? They look so good together!"   
  
Tara smiled and nodded in agreeance. They were a very attractive couple. Willow was just so happy that her best friend had finally found a girl who was worthy of him.   
  
"And I can tell that she loves you, Spike. It just radiates off of her!" She turned back to her girlfriend again. "Can't you see it in her aura, Baby? It just glows. Look at the both of them!"   
  
"Willow and Tara are Wiccan," Spike leaned down and whispered to Buffy. "Into all that New Age mumbo jumbo... crystals and spells and auras and all that rot."   
  
"It's not rot, Spike!" Willow said in defense of herself. "Haven't we talked about you being more open-minded before, Mister?" She looked back at Buffy who was a little overwhelmed by the red-head's exuberance. "Buffy is open-minded. Just look at her! You can tell. She has honest eyes. And a pure energy buzzing around her."   
  
Spike looked up toward the stage to see Oz and Xander almost done tuning and setting up.   
  
"What's that, Lads? You're ready to play?" he called, pretending that they had said something to him. Anything to end this conversation about the abracadabra and hocus-pocus of his relationship with Buffy.   
  
"Huh?" Xander asked, looking at him with brows furrowed in puzzlement.   
  
"Salvaton," Oz said, turning his head back to look at Xander. He winked. "That's us. Yeah. Ready," he called back to Spike.   
  
Willow and Tara took a seat at the high-top to the left of the stage.   
  
"Come on, Buffy," Willow called. "Come sit with us and we can catch up while they do their musical thingy."   
  
Buffy found herself bombarded with a litany of questions as the guys worked out a few new songs. Willow wanted to guess how they met. And then she wanted to know if she was even close.   
  
"Oh, you met through Spike's step-sister?" she frowned. "Hmm... I just saw you meeting in a park. You know, you were sitting on a bench reading something by Anne Rice and he nearly tripped over his own feet when he saw you sitting there alone. So, that didn't happen, huh?"   
  
"Not so much," Buffy admitted. "But he did come sit on the couch with me while I was doing my senior project on Dylan Thomas the other night. And we went to the beach the next day."   
  
Buffy didn't know what it was about Willow that made her want to make her feel better.   
  
"Oh, well... that's kind of... not the same, but hey. Books and outdoorsiness. So, maybe a little," Willow tried with a weak smile.   
  
"Why don't you let her tell it, Baby?" Tara suggested. She smiled timidly at Buffy. "If you want to tell us, Buffy."   
  
"I met Will five years ago when his Dad married my friend Cordelia's Mom," she told them.   
  
"Was it love at first sight?" Willow asked excitedly. "I bet it was!"   
  
"It was," Buffy admitted.   
  
"Ooh! Goody!" Willow grinned. "I knew it! I have a way with these things."   
  
Buffy couldn't help but giggle a little at Willow's excitability. She couldn't knock the girl for being so happy for her best friend. Willow seemed genuinely thrilled about Spike and Buffy's new relationship.   
  
"And he loved you, too! But he just didn't know how to say it, right?" she guessed.   
  
"Something like that," Buffy told her. "We just have a lot in common. And we've been able to become good friends over the years."   
  
"What is it you love most about Spike?" she asked. "Is it his smile? Or, oh! His voice! That accent is pretty yummy. And I'm sure you've heard him sing! Or I know! Those gorgeous blue eyes of his!"   
  
"His heart," Buffy stated firmly. There was no doubt about what she loved most about Spike. "It's always been Will's heart. Since the day I met him."   
  
"Wow! So, that is just too cute, you know. Will. I don't think I've ever heard anyone call him that before," Willow told her.   
  
Tara just gave Buffy a sympathetic smile as her girlfriend prattled on.   
  
"She means well," Buffy heard Tara say. Her lips never moved, though. Her eyes widened as Tara winked at her. She realized that Tara was speaking to her telepathically! "Don't ask how," Tara silently answered, sensing Buffy's question. "I just can."   
  
Spike set down his guitar and looked over to Buffy, shooting her his most apologetic smile. He could tell she was squirming a bit under Willow's nonstop banter. His best friend meant well. He knew that. But he also knew that she could be a little intense at times.   
  
"I should probably go save Buffy from Red," he sighed to his bandmates.   
  
"Or you could fill us in on when Buffy even happened," Xander replied.   
  
"I could do that," Spike told him.   
  
Oz had noticed that his strings were beginning to sound a little dead and took the opportunity to start unwinding them from the pegs at the headstock. May as well change them while he was thinking about it.   
  
"Yeah. Do that," he nodded, not looking up from his task.   
  
"Met her through Cordelia about five years ago," he told them, digging through his pockets for his cigarettes and a lighter. "When Da married Honey." He pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips catching a raised eyebrow from Buffy. He took it back out and stuck it back into the pack unlit.   
  
Honey. Xander remembered her all too well. Spike's step-mother scared him. She was all flirty and coy and it had creeped him out to no end.   
  
"Take it you remember Honey," Spike smirked when he caught the sour look on Xander's face. "Anyhow, the Cheerleader's been using my girl for years. Invites her over and then leaves her to play secretary so that her mum doesn't catch on that she's out whoring around. She's been doing it since they were freshmen."   
  
"As in high school?" Xander asked. "Just how old is Buffy?"   
  
"Old enough. She graduates in a few months. Smarter and more mature than most of the birds at UC already," he said in her defense. "She's... she's not like other girls, Mate. She's..."   
  
He wasn't sure if he should divulge the information to his friends. Then he looked over to where Buffy was sitting between Willow and Tara. She was laughing and had clearly been accepted by the two women.   
  
"She's the one, Mate," he admitted.   
  
Oz looked up from his bass and stared blankly at him. That had come out of nowhere. Not that Spike hadn't dated a few interesting girls since they'd met. There had been that girl Amy from Psych class freshman year. Too bad she had been a psycho. Then there was Dawn. He'd freaked out when little miss innocent had been busted for being an underage stripper at the Lucky Lady. That killed that relationship pronto. There had been Darla. She had seemed normal enough, but had paired off with Dru after a gig one night. There went her morals. Right out the window.   
  
Spike had decidedly had very bad luck with women since Oz knew him. He looked over at Buffy and sized her up quickly. She was chatting animatedly with the other girls, looking over at Spike from time to time with nothing but love and adoration in her eyes. So, she was a little on the young side. She looked incredibly innocent, too. But Oz decided that there was something very wise about her, as well. She was confident but not cocky. And she was friendly without being overbearing. And she hadn't made a snarky little remark about his brusque use of the English language. Most people usually had something to say in response to his curt replies and direct questions. Hmmm, he thought. She is the one.


	11. Chapter 11

Buffy sat nervously at the edge of the stage, microphone in hand. She had sung in high school chorus dozens of time. She had been cast as the lead in musicals since she was a freshman. She had even done a solo when it came time for solo and ensemble. This wasn't like any of those things. This scared her to death.   
  
Sure, singing 'Look to the Rainbow' at the community center's performance of "Finnegan's Rainbow" had been scary at the age of 12. But she had Tucker Wells on stage to sing with her. Now, even with Spike right behind her, she was scared to death. And he wanted her to sing one of Red Rain's original songs.   
  
Spike came to sit beside her, resting his guitar against the stage at his side. She looked like she was going to start hyperventilating any second.   
  
"Kitten?"   
  
She looked down at the microphone in her hands. He reached over and tilted her chin toward him, willing her to meet his eyes.   
  
"It's just a song. Just like you did in the car yesterday on the way to the beach," he assured her. "Think about yesterday. Or pretend you're flitting around singing 'I Guess I'll Miss the Man' or some other showtune," he grinned referring toher role in Pippin.   
  
She smiled and nodded. She was being ridiculous. She knew that.   
  
"You guys ready?" Xander called from behind his kit.   
  
"You ready, Kitten?" Spike asked her.   
  
She nodded and he gave her a quick kiss on the lips before grabbing his guitar and finding his place on the stage.   
  
"She's ready," he informed his mates.   
  
She heard the click of Xander's Vic Firths as he counted off the song. The low thud of Oz's bass and the crunch of Spike's guitar fell in effortlessly. Buffy's heart raced as she counted the measures to her post. One more, deep breath, eyes closed... and she was in Spike's DeSoto with her hair blowing in the breeze and the radio screaming in the background.   
  
What are you taking   
  
Misleading again   
  
And that face that you're making   
  
You better clean it when you can...   
  
Spike had given her a copy of Red Rain's demo as soon as he had gotten the box back from the little studio on the East side of Sunnydale. It had cost him about four weekends worth of gig money, but he had been so proud as he held the cassette out to her. A grand total of eight songs were on it and she loved every one of them.   
  
We're gonna suffer   
  
Inquisition from the pharisees   
  
I know you didn't mean to move by   
  
And leave me to take the blame   
  
Let them right what was left of me...   
  
She felt the music thrumming in her blood and in her bones. The words tumbled from her lips of their own accord. That's how it always was with Buffy and music. It infiltrated her and used her as a vessel. The writer's emotions became her own. If the words were laced with anger, they became her fury. If they were laced with love, they became her joy.   
  
And the reason I get this   
  
The reason I get this way   
  
I don't know, I don't know...   
  
She was angry. And her voice was edged with desperation. She knew exactly what this song was about. She had felt every emotion at one time or another in her own life. She had stood by and been passed over again and again. And she had felt the anger roll off of her in waves in response to the stimuli. This was a giant 'fuck you' to everyone who had used her, to everyone who thought that they could embed themselves in her life and under her skin and then walk away without ever looking back.   
  
Come in, relax and have a seat   
  
You look sort of nervous and ashamed   
  
I know you've never seen the fall guy   
  
Take a dive and wear the scar   
  
But trophy the pain...   
  
Fuck you, Daddy! Fuck you, Cordy! Fuck you, Mrs. Calendar! Fuck you, Mommy! Buffy felt the bitter bile rising in her throat and completely lost herself as she gripped the microphone and belted out her pain.   
  
You better believe I'll watch you suffer   
  
And the reason I get this...   
  
The reason I get this...   
  
The reason I get this way   
  
But is it worth the pain?   
  
Spike felt the smile spread across his face as he ripped into the guitar solo with more gusto than he ever had in his life. She was bloody amazing. It was as if she was the only person in the room. He knew "Reason" was the perfect audition song for her. He knew she'd be bloody brilliant.   
  
He shot a glance over at Oz. The bass player was moving his body like a cobra in time to the music. His eyes were closed as he plucked the strings on his bass, his fingers dancing up the neck expertly. Spike grinned even more when he saw the corners of the usually stoic man's mouth twitch up into a slight smile.   
  
I know the reason I get this   
  
The reason I get this   
  
The reason I get this way   
  
Everyday   
  
The reason I get this way   
  
And the reason I get this way   
  
I don't know, I don't know   
  
The reason I get this way...   
  
She set the microphone back in its stand as she heard Xander's last fill signaling the end of the song. Shit, she was crying. Buffy opened her eyes as the music ended and snapped back to the reality around her. Tara and Willow were jumping up and down whistling and clapping. She felt a little shaky, but totally relieved. It felt good to sing. And it felt even better to sing something that Spike had written knowing that they shared that same dark place it had come from.   
  
"Fucking amazing," Oz whispered.   
  
"Holy shit, Spike! You didn't tell us she was that good!" Xander echoed the bass player's sentiment with a little more elaboration. "That was unreal! She's, like, a thousand times better than Dru! Can we keep her?"   
  
Buffy felt the smile forming on her lips and brushed away the tears with the back of her hand. Spike's arms wrapped around her from behind and he kissed her neck possessively.   
  
"What do you say, Love?" he whispered. "Want to be a kept woman?"


	12. Chapter 12

"How about I come pick you up from school tomorrow?" Spike suggested, walking Buffy to her door.   
  
The absence of Joyce's Jeep confirmed the fact that she probably would not be home. Buffy toyed with the idea of inviting Spike in, but she knew that if she did that, it would only be harder to watch him leave.   
  
"Don't you have classes?" she asked, turning the key in the lock.   
  
"Early ones," he assured her. "Thought I could pick up my girl and take her to dinner... someplace without fluourescent lights overhead and country music playing on the jukebox."   
  
She leaned in the doorway after opening the door. His girl. She loved the way that sounded. And the way it felt.   
  
"Do you think your mum would mind me taking you out on a school night?" he asked.   
  
Mind? If Joyce Summers was even home, she'd probably offer him money to keep her daughter out of the house as late as possible just so that she could avoid her more easily. As it was, she barely noticed Buffy when she was around.   
  
"That would be a big, fat negatory, good buddy," Buffy told him, voice dripping with sarcasm. "She couldn't care less what I did or when. As long as I'm not bothering her."   
  
"I don't believe that, Kitten," Spike told her comfortingly. "Your mum loves you very much."   
  
"Whatever," Buffy shrugged.   
  
Spike dropped the subject, sensing that it was a sore one. The combination of sarcasm and sadness in her voice just made him want to protect and love her even more.   
  
"So, where shall I fetch you?" he grinned.   
  
"Fetch me?" She couldn't help but giggle. He had a way with words. "I have band seventh period, so I'm right down the hall from the main parking lot. I can get out of there around two. Mr. Powell doesn't even bother with rol calll any more. Not a whole lot to do in marching band at the end of the year when you're a senior."   
  
"Two it is then," he smiled.   
  
He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers.   
  
"You know I love you, Kitten?" he asked, wanting to assure her that she was the most precious thing in his world.   
  
"That, I do," she replied, nuzzling her nose against his.   
  
"When you get in bed tonight, call me. I want my voice to be the last one you hear before you drift off so that I know that you're having only good dreams of our future together," he whispered against her mouth before parting her lips wth his tongue.   
  
Buffy felt her knees shake as the kiss deepened. She moulded her body to his and felt him stiffening against her through his jeans. Her own desire had began to flow from her core and she reluctantly broke the kiss.   
  
"If you don't go now, there's a good chance I'll never let you leave," she warned him.   
  
Neither of them wanted to say goodnight, but they both knew that they couldn't let their new relationship affect existing aspects of their lives.  
  
Buffy shut the door with a sigh and watched as the DeSoto's headlights disappeared down Revello Drive. She'd see him tomorrow and tomorrow couldn't come soon enough. She replayed the events of the weekend in her head as she checked phone messages.   
  
"Buffy, honey... it's Mom. It looks like I won't be coming home when I originally thought I would. I have the opportunity to fly to Verona for a Goerschner showcase and I just can not pass it up! If you need me, I'll be staying at the Porto Palio in Borgo Milano until Friday. I'll call when I get there! Love you!"   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. The transition to dorm life was going to be cake with the infrequent appearances by her absentee mom as preparation. She'd probably have a roommate at UC. That would be a welcome change. She liked her alone time, but most of the time she was just lonely.   
  
It was almost ten by the time Buffy had finished her English paper, grabbed something to eat and showered. She set her alarm and slipped into bed, grabbing the phone on her nightstand. She dialed Spike's number, hoping he would still be awake.   
  
"Hello?" She smiled at his unmistakable voice on the other end of the phone.   
  
"Hi Baby," she said quietly.   
  
"You in bed now, Kitten?" he asked, his voice low.   
  
"Mmm-hmm. What are you doing?"   
  
"Just finished my paper on Cervantes," he told her. "Was getting ready for bed. I hoped you wouldn't forget to call me."   
  
"I'd never forget you, Will," she assured him.   
  
"So, Love... are you naked?"   
  
Buffy felt her body flame from head to toe at his seductive tone. When she didn't respond immediately, he chuckled.   
  
"Uh, not so much," she managed to stammer.   
  
"Bet you're blushing, yeah?" he grinned into the phone. "That sweet body all pink and warm the way I like it?"   
  
"You're such a pig, Will," she giggled.   
  
"Oink-oink, Baby," he agreed.   
  
"We're still on for tomorrow?" she asked, changing the subject.   
  
"A pack of rabid wolves couldn't keep me from you," he confirmed. "Is your mum going to be home tomorrow?"   
  
"That would be a big N-O."   
  
She went on to explain to him that her mother was jetsetting around Italy playing Madame Curator.   
  
"You could, um... if you want..." She was stammering again. It reminded him of just how innocent and vulnerable she was. "Stay... here. With me. Here."   
  
"I could do that. My first class isn't until 10. I could take you to school on Tuesday," he offered. "If you want."   
  
"I want," she said, her voice sounding a little sleepy.   
  
"Are you getting tired, Baby?" he asked.   
  
"Mmm... little," she admitted, fighting to keep her eyes open.   
  
"Want me to hang up now?"   
  
"Mmm-mmm," she murmured. "Not yet."   
  
"Want me to stay on until you fall asleep?"   
  
"Please?" Her voice was barely a whisper.   
  
"Want me to sing you to sleep?"   
  
"Yes, please," she smiled.   
  
He began singing the song he'd written for her while he watched her sleep in his bed. He imagined her curled up under her covers with that angelic smile on her face as she cradled the phone between her shoulder and her ear.   
  
It's all because of you   
  
You know it's true   
  
It's all because of you...   
  
"I love you, Buffy," he said softly after finishing the song.   
  
"Love you, Will," she mumbled, already drifting off.   
  
"I'm going to hang up now, Love, alright?" he told her.   
  
The answer from the other end was blissful silence. 


	13. Chapter 13

Buffy was finishing her orange juice when she heard the honking of a horn in her drive-way. She had planned on walking to school after her weekend run-in with Cordelia. She was positive the brunette was still too angry with her to even want to look at her. She grabbed her purse and books and stopped only to lock the door behind her.   
  
She was greeted by the sight of a red Nissan hardbody with the words "Virgin's Last Ride" emblazoned across the top of the windshield in glittering gold letters.   
  
"Hey Buffy," Harmony called from the open window. "We thought you might need a ride. It's a tight fit, but you're scrawny."   
  
Buffy couldn't help but grin as Harmony scooted closer to the muscular, smooth-scalped man in the driver's seat.   
  
"Hey Buff," Gunn said flashing her a toothpaste-ad smile. "Heard about your big weekend."   
  
She felt her cheeks warm a bit at the thought of her big weekend. Just how much had Harmony told him? He reached out and turned up the stereo as he peeled out of her driveway expertly.   
  
Juices like wine   
  
Discord and rhyme   
  
I'm on the hunt   
  
I'm after you...   
  
Buffy giggled at Gunn's choice in music. It was obviously one of Harmony's choices. Harmony was trying to follow along with it, bobbing her head and mouthing the words like someone who had heard the song a hundred or more times. For a cheerleader, she had surprisingly very little rhythm.   
  
"So, what's the what? Is it cool to hang with the outcasts now?" she found herself asking.   
  
"Oh Honey, we are the outcasts now if you haven't figured it out," Gunn joked.   
  
"Yeah, Cordy spent the rest of yesterday calling everyone she knew so that they would be sure to avoid us like the black plague," Harmony groused. "No offense, Sugar Bear," she smiled up at Gunn.   
  
He smiled back at her, dropping a kiss on her head at the stop sign.   
  
"Yeah, I've got their plague alright," he grinned. "That's bullshit, man, that Cordelia thinks she can judge like that. You know, I was never cool with what they did to you, Buffy. Was I, Harm?"   
  
Harmony looked appropriately guilty.   
  
"No, you weren't, Charles, " she said seriously. "He used to tell me that he could fix you up with his friend Wes. Or that we could bring you along with us. That there was no reason to leave you at Cordy's by yourself. But Cordy would always interrupt and say that you didn't mind and that you weren't interested in dating and partying. She made you out to be some kind of freak."   
  
Gee, that made Buffy feel so much better.   
  
"That's why she kept trying to push Connor on me. She didn't like that my Sugar Bear had a heart and a mind of his own," Harmony explained. "She really thought that she could get me to dump him by threatening my popularity. But I... I love Charles," she admitted quietly.   
  
Gunn's eyes lit up at her proclamation. Buffy assumed that Harmony had never told him that she loved him before.   
  
"I love you too, Goldilocks," he said as she snuggled closer to him.   
  
Buffy couldn't help but smile herself. She knew how it felt to love someone and to be loved. The way she felt about Spike erased all of her desires to be anyone but who she was when she was with him. This softer, kinder Harmony was refreshing. Something in Buffy wanted to reciprocate the protective gestures Harmony had shown for her and Spike. She vowed to herself that she wouldn't let Cordy, Angel or any of their snooty friends do anything to hurt this new couple.   
  
Gunn pulled into his usual spot in the student parking lot. At least they hadn't taken his space, that was a start. He jumped down from the truck and then helped Harmony and Buffy out. Buffy noticed Gunn slip his arm around Harmony and remembered how it felt to have Spike's arm around her. It was going to be a long day knowing that he would be waiting for her at two.   
  
The first thing Buffy noticed were the snickers being cast their way as she walked down the hall with Harmony and Gunn. It seemed Cordelia had already done what she considered 'damage control' among the popular set.   
  
"I feel like I have a giant 'kick me' sign on my ass," Harmony whispered.   
  
She had never been on the receiving end of stares and whispers. She was extremely uncomfortable, but Gunn held her close to him. He could feel the tension in her body.   
  
"Ignore them, Baby," he told her. "They're jealous. They don't have what we have. If they did, they'd understand. Besides, I've got a little ace in the hole."   
  
Gunn was nothing like Buff had imagined. She supposed that she had expected him to be just as shallow and unfeeling as the rest of the jocks and cheerleaders. Instead, he was very sweet as he whispered endearments in Harmony's ear making her giggle and blush.   
  
Buffy stopped at her locker and dialed in her combination as Gunn and Harmony continued talking quietly and stealing kisses at the locker next to hers.   
  
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Miss Uptight Stick Up Her Ass Buffy and the two losers without a brain between them."   
  
Buffy stiffened at the sound of Cordelia's voice and the harsh words she spat at them,   
  
"Cordy, I really don't think it's neccessary to--"   
  
"Oh wait, that woudn't be a stick... that would be my step-brother's dick up her--"   
  
Buffy's hand shot out before she could even think and silenced the cheerleader with a blow to the nose.   
  
"You shut up!" she venemously glared. "You just shut your mouth! You don't know anything about me and Will! You just leave us alone!"   
  
Cordy held her hand over her nose and glowered at her former friend as a trickle of blood made its way down the front of her white cashmere sweater.   
  
"You bitch! This is a Guess! sweater! It cost a fortune! It's ruined!" she cried out.   
  
Buffy shrugged and shook her head.   
  
"Listen Cordy," she sighed. "I'm sorry about your sweater. It's not ruined. Take it to the dry cleaner. They can get out just about anything. But what is ruined is our friendship... or at least what little was left of it. I... I don't know what happened to you, Cordy."   
  
"To me? Nothing happened to me!" Cordelia yelled. "It's YOU! Something is wrong with you. Not me."   
  
"Right," Buffy nodded. "So, you being a collossal bitch has nothing to do with you? And the fact that Harmony and Gunn see straight through your poor little rich girl act has nothing to do with you? You know, I remember when we used to be friends, Cordy," Buffy said sadly. "I remember when mom and dad would take us all to the beach and then stop by Waffle House on the way home. I remember when... when there was still something about you to like."   
  
She left Cordy standing there with her mouth open and walked away without a glance back. It was sad, the choices Cordelia had made. Her reputation was more important to her than love or friendship. Buffy prayed that she never became like that.   
  
"Oh, and Queen C... just thought I'd let you know," Gunn smirked. "Might want to start looking for fresh meat."   
  
Cordy looked at him through wild eyes. What the Hell was he talking about?   
  
"Buffy's nice enough to not rub salt in your wounds... or maybe she just didn't know. Either way, she's head and shoulders above you in the class department and I didn't want to embarrass her," Gunn began.   
  
"Would you just spit it out already, you Cretin?!" she shrieked.   
  
The insults only fueled the fire as far as Gunn was concerned. Harmony looked up at him, her brow furrowed, wondering what dirty little secret her boyfriend was about to divulge.   
  
"Seems your Angel's been playing you," he told her. "Liam Senior's company was about to take a nose-dive, so he did what he had to do to help out his old man. He won't be going off to Northwestern on that football scholarship after all. He's going to stick around and hit UC Sunnydale so that he can continue his relationship with Winifred Burkle. Her father has agreed to become partners with Angel's dad in VisionCorp. Marrying Fred... well, that was just the final step that sealed the deal."   
  
"Marrying? Marrying Fred?" Cordelia was screaming at the top of her lungs and didn't care who heard her. "What the Hell are you talking about? Angel isn't marrying anyone! There is no Fred! There is no..."   
  
Her eyes raised to meet Angel's across the quad. As soon as she saw him, he looked away. She stalked over to him, pushing her way through the nosy groups of students waiting for the bell to ring. Angel straightened his shoulders and shuffled his feet. This was not the way he had wanted to handle breaking up with Cordelia.   
  
"Tell me he's lying," she demanded.   
  
"He's, uh... he's lying," Angel repeated weakly. He refused to look at her.   
  
"Now tell me you're not," she whispered as the tears welled up in her eyes.   
  
Angel looked up at her briefly and then back down at the floor. He didn't say a word, but the look in his eyes said it all.   
  
"Were you going to tell me?" she asked numbly.   
  
He nodded.   
  
"And when would that be? Before or after you walked her down the aisle?"   
  
"You don't love me, Cordy."   
  
It was a simple statement. There was no animosity in his voice. They both knew it was true.   
  
"But... but I could," she cried out.   
  
"But you don't. And maybe I want that from someone. Maybe I want someone to see me as more than a nice car or a ticket to popularity. Maybe... maybe Fred is that person," he told her.   
  
"No," she whispered. "No!"   
  
"I didn't want to do this here," he told her. "Not like this. I didn't think Gunn would say anything."   
  
"But he did," Cordy reminded him. "He knew. Who else knew?"   
  
He didn't say anything.   
  
"Was I the only one who didn't know?"   
  
"You didn't want to see it," he said. "You... you were too wrapped up in yourself. It was fun, Cordy. It was exciting. But it was never nice. And it was never... it was never forever."   
  
She watched him walk away and sank down on the bench behind her. No. This was not happening. She was Cordelia Chase. Who the Hell did he think he was?   
  
"Well, just so you know it's OVER, Angel!" she screamed. "It's over! I'm dumping you! Yeah! We're through!"   
  
She was crying, uncaring who saw. "We're through," she whispered, not believing it herself.


	14. Chapter 14

Buffy looked up at the clock and grinned. She grabbed her books and started making her way down from the top tier of the band room.   
  
"And just where are *you* going, Summers?" her section leader, Ford, shot over to her as she paused on tier three, the woodwinds.   
  
"Hot date," she grinned. "Don't wait up, Mom."   
  
He winked and elbowed the triple-tom player, Parker.   
  
"Summers has a hot date," he teased. "Must be with you since it's not with me."   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. She liked being the only girl in the drum line... sometimes. The guys, while most of the time protective of her, enjoyed making her blush just the same.   
  
"Not me," Parker told him. He threw a drumstick at the bass drummer, Riley Finn, who was sitting in the far corner behind the old Slingerland set used for jazz band with the band director's phone pressed up to his ear. He'd pulled the phone out of the office and snaked the cord around the door jamb and along the moulding, knowing he'd get away with using it in stealth as he always did.   
  
"Hey Finn," he called. "Date with Summers tonight?"   
  
Riley scowled and launched the stick back at him. He put his hand over the phone receiver and informed Parker that he was talking to his girlfriend, Cecily, who did not know how to take a joke.   
  
"Date with Buffy?" they heard her screech through the phone. "That mousy little thing that plays the snare drum? What the Hell? I thought we were exclusive?"   
  
"Thanks a lot, asshole," he shouted at a giggling Parker. "No, honey. They were kidding. They're just giving Summers shit for having a date tonight."   
  
He continued trying to soothe his overactive girlfriend. Cecily was home-schooled and a little more than sheltered when it came to the outside world. She took everything anyone told her as the gospel truth.   
  
"So, who's the lucky guy then, Summers?" Ford quirked his brow at her.   
  
"He, uh... doesn't go here," she told him.   
  
"Uh-huh. More, please?" Parker encouraged.   
  
It amazed her how the three nearly grown-men acted more like a bunch of ladies at a beauty salon then high school seniors. Goddip queens had nothing on them; they were the reigning kings.   
  
"He's a sophomore at UC Sunnydale," she continued. She was going to make them work for this.   
  
"Do we know him?" Riley asked, his ear still to the phone.   
  
"Maybe," she smiled glancing at the clock. It was nearly two. She knew Spike would be waiting and she was more than anxious to see him.   
  
"Come on, Summers. Spill the beans," Ford instructed sternly.   
  
"Is there any chance you'll let me out of here at two if I don't?"   
  
She knew that Ford would pull rank and use his section leader status to detain her if she didn't tell him what he wanted to know.   
  
"Likely not," he confessed.   
  
She rolled her eyes and sighed.   
  
"Fine. It's William Giles," she informed her leader. "Can I go now?"   
  
Ford was searching the recesses of his memory. Giles? William... Cordelia Chase's step-brother?   
  
"No shit?" he asked, remembering Spike as the snarky British import who had joined them mid-year in Jazz band when Ford was a freshman. "He still playing guitar?"   
  
Buffy was surprised by Ford's question. Part of her thought he was going to make a snide remark about her new boyfriend.   
  
"Uh, yeah... how did you--"   
  
"Oh yeah," Parker piped up. "Dude was in jazz band with us freshman year. He was really good. Kind of an asshole if you ask me, but he did a wicked Lynch that used to make Mr. Powell want to crawl under his podium."   
  
Parker was referring to Spike's Dokken-style guitar solos. And she knew how much Mr. Powell hated any music that came from the 80s. Well, the 1980s. He pretty much cast away anything that was written before 1950.   
  
"You're dating *that* guy?" Riley asked, still on the phone with Cecily. "Isn't he in some punk band now? I thought I saw him pick up Cordelia a few months ago and his hair was all bleached out and he was big with the black and the leather?"   
  
"He's in Red Rain," she told them with a self-serving smile. "So am I. You should come see us sometime. Can I go now?"   
  
Ford was still looking like he was weighing his decision.   
  
"Come on, Ford," she pleaded. "He's waiting for me."   
  
"He still drive that old DeSoto?" he asked.   
  
"Yes, Ford," she answered hastily. "Please, now?"   
  
He let out a laugh and shooed her off.   
  
"Go," he told her. "Have fun, Summers. Tell Spike I always liked that car. That's the only reason I'm letting you go early."   
  
She ran out of the band room stifling a giggle. She decided that if she'd had brothers she'd have wanted them to be like Ford, Parker and Riley. They gave her a fair ration of shit, but it was all in good fun.   
  
She spotted the DeSoto at the back of the student parking lot as soon as she opened the door. The top was down and he was leaning against the door smoking a cigarette. She practically ran across the pavement to him. It was hard to believe it had been almost a full day since she'd last seen him. She couldn't believe how hard her heart was beating. She threw her books into the back seat and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down for a searing kiss.   
  
"Taste like nicotine, Love," he grinned when she finally came up for air. He had dropped the cigarette on the ground when she tackled him.   
  
"Don't care," she whispered. "I missed you so much, Will."   
  
"I missed you, too," he admitted, opening the door for her.   
  
She pulled her seatbelt across her chest as he went around and got in on his side. Her eyes raked over him adoringly. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that had been razored within an inch of becoming rags and a black Misfits t-shirt. One arm was covered with black rubber bracelets and thin silver bangles nearly to his elbow. On the other, he wore a thick cuff bracelet of twisted silver with twin dragons' heads sitting nose-to-nose at the closure. His thick, leather jimmies were peeking out from the frayed bottoms of his jeans. She thought about what Riley said about him being a punk and giggled. He certainly looked every bit the part. Too bad those boys would never know the poet who hid under the leather and chains.   
  
"So, where are we going tonight?" she wondered aloud as she took in his attire.   
  
He grinned at her and thought about egging her on. He had a change of clothes in the trunk.   
  
"I was thinking we'd swing through the drive-thru of McDonald's on the way out to Club Demo," he fibbed.   
  
She raised an eyebrow at him, knowing he was teasing.   
  
"Were you now? Hmm..." Two could play at this game. "That's too bad. I laid out a really nice little strappy thing that hits about mid-thigh. But, you know, McDonald's and Club Demo. Wouldn't want to be overdressed."   
  
"We still playing your truth game, Love?" he asked.   
  
"I don't know, Will," she challenged. "Are we?"   
  
He broke into a wide grin and reached for her hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed her palm gently before darting his tongue out to taste it. She giggled at the rough, wet sensation.   
  
"Always, Kitten. Wear the strappy number," he told her. "We're going some place nice."


	15. Chapter 15

Spike settled himself on the couch with the remote when Buffy disappeared up the stairs. She'd asked him if he was going to get ready, too. He chuckled and told her to call down when she was close to being done. If having Cordy for a step-sister and Willow as his best friend had taught him nothing else, it had taught him that women definitely took too much time to get ready for a date. It also taught him to appreciate all of the primping and preening that went into their delectible appearance because they did it all for them, the male of the species... or, in Willow's case, the just as attractively preened female of the species.   
  
"I'm almost ready, Will," she called down after more than an hour of showering, blow-drying, cursing and giggling.   
  
He smiled and grabbed his bags from the floor. Five minutes in the shower, less than three to run a dollop of gel through his hair and to spritz himself with his trademark Paco Rabanne and another two or three to dress. Buffy still wasn't ready.   
  
"Love, I'm waiting," he called from the bottom of the stairs.   
  
"Just a minute," she called down to him.   
  
He wondered if it was just a matter of instinct for all women to keep a man waiting. What a man could do in a fraction of the time took women hours.   
  
He smelled her before he saw her. The cherries and vanilla wafted down the stairs announcing her arrival and he felt as if time had stood still. There was no presence of the dubious ticking away of moments gone by as her beauty assaulted him on all levels. The strappy little number was definitely a wise choice. The fitted scarlet sheath moulded itself to her curves hitting, as promised, right around mid-thigh. It drew his attention to the swell of her breasts as they rested against the crepe of the bodice. The neckline was not so dangerously low as it was enticingly enhancing to her form. And the straps were as thin as the satin laces of a fine corset where they skimmed her golden shoulders. She had her hair knotted up into a French twist with just a few loose tendrils to frame her face. Her legs were tan and bare, made even more shapely by the kittenish heels of her matching red sandals. She was chewing on her glossy red lip in nervous anticipation of his reaction.   
  
His eyes drank in every inch of her before coming to rest on the expectant green of hers. He had never seen anything so precious, so perfect.   
  
"Should... should I go change?" she asked, not sure if she was overdressed.   
  
He stood before her, just as striking, in a pair of charcoal grey trousers and sports coat topping a fitted navy blue t-shirt.   
  
"No," he told her, finally finding his voice. "You're bloody perfect."   
  
Her whole face lit up with a relieved smile. For a moment, she was worried that she'd overdone it. She'd never been on a date. She had no idea what he meant by some place nice. She assumed it meant, well, some place nice. And when her mother went some place nice, she'd wear something worthy of such a nice place.   
  
He reached for her hand and escorted her down the last few steps, drawing her close when she reached the bottom.   
  
"Bloody perfect," he repeated, his voice no more than a whisper.   
  
He buried his face in her neck and closed his eyes as her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders.   
  
"Love you so much, Buffy," he swore.   
  
"I love you, too, Will," she replied, her voice warm with the tenderness and awe of a first love.   
  
He was a gentleman in every way. He opened the car door, belted her in and basked in the glow of her giggles and blushes as the compliments tumbled from his lips. He couldn't stop himself. She inspired things in him that he never knew possible. She brought out the poet in him.   
  
When he pulled into the parking lot of The Melting Pot, she let out an unexpected chuckle. He turned off the ignition and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.   
  
"Is this okay? We can go somewhere else," he told her, suddenly worried.   
  
"No, no," she was still giggling. "This, Will... is perfect. It's exactly where I thought you'd take me."   
  
He stepped out of the car and went to her side to open the door for her and help her out. She was quietly smiling as they made their way into the restaurant.   
  
"Reservations for Giles," he told the hostess.   
  
She smiled and escorted them to a small table in a secluded, darkened corner of the already very intimate restaurant. He ordered a bottle of Pinot Grigio and then turned his attention back to Buffy.   
  
"But I'm not--"   
  
"In that dress, you are," he assured her, knowing the protest still sitting on the tip of her tongue.   
  
She blushed and let the words fall away. The maitre'd returned with the bottle of wine and two glasses. He poured a small amount into Spike's glass and waited for him to taste it. He nodded his approval and Buffy watched as both glasses were filled.   
  
"This is too much, Will," she told him. "This has got to be costing you a fortune."   
  
He gave her a wink and told her that it was all courtesy of dear, old Da.   
  
"Rupert is pretty liberal with his allowance," he explained. "Guilt factor. And I'm not fool enough to look a gift horse in the mouth."   
  
She raised her glass and waited for him to do the same.   
  
"Then I propose a toast to Rupert," she said trying to be serious. "And to the beautiful man he's created and raised."   
  
She could have sworn she saw Spike blush. He clicked her glass and cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing questioningly on hers.   
  
"I mean... well, men can be beautiful, right?" she asked. "In a totally macho kind of way. You know, man-pretty."   
  
He was still watching her with a wonderous glaze in his eyes.   
  
"Um, I mean... what I meant was how beautiful you are in here," she explained, placing her hand over her heart. "Not that you're not beautiful outside, too. Because you are. In that totally masculine *grr* kind of way."   
  
He wasn't doing anything to bail her out as she continued to plunge even deeper into her sea of explanations. He sipped at his wine, amused by her sweet innocense.   
  
"Are you going to ever shut me up?" she finally asked.   
  
He leaned across the table and captured her lips in his, sucking gently on her bottom lip before slipping his tongue into her waiting mouth. He stroked the softness of her inner cheeks, the velvety roughness of her own tongue with his before leaving her mouth completely.   
  
"Shut up, Kitten," he grinned, pleased with the effect his kisses had on her.   
  
Her skin was flushed, lips slightly swollen from the contact and her eyes wide with desire. He loved the way she looked at him. It was the intense gaze of a woman who was completely in love. He only hoped that she saw the same profound desire and love in his eyes when he looked at her.   
  
They ordered the traditional Gougere and Emmenthaler fondue. Buffy watched, mesmerized, as their server prepared the pot right in front of them, swirling the cheeses around with white wine, a grating of nutmeg, fresh lemon, garlic and Kischwasser. Spike insisted on feeding her, dipping a small chunk of bread into the creamy blend of cheeses with his fondue fork. She moaned appreciatively as soon as the food hit her tongue.   
  
"Oh my God! This has got to be the best thing I've ever had in my mouth!"   
  
"The *best*?" he asked with a naughty leer.   
  
"The best *non-living* thing," she corrected returning his heated gaze.   
  
By the time they had made it to the dessert course, with Buffy insisting all the way that she was about to pop, they had finished off the wine and had started on glasses of Cointreau. The sweet liqueur complimented the dark chocolate fondue perfectly. Buffy sipped at her glass aware of the way Spike was watching her all the while.   
  
"What are you thinking?" she asked him, her voice a little more husky than she'd ever imagined it could be.   
  
"That I'd love to drizzle chocolate down the side of your lovely throat and watch it drip down onto your breasts," he told her, his voice laced with desire. "And then I'd love even more to lick every bit of it off of you."   
  
That earned him a wide-eyed stare that seemed to hold some sort of challenge for him to do precisely that. She finished her drink, never taking her eyes off of his. She couldn't wait to get him home and out of those clothes. She couldn't wait to get him into her bed and under her skin. But he wasn't playing by the rules. He paid the bill and whispered to her that they had one more stop before going home.   
  
He pulled the DeSoto into a small lot at the end of 49th street and reached over to unlatch Buffy's seatbelt.   
  
"One more stop," he repeated, lifting his hand to ghost over her collarbones.   
  
She felt a delicious shiver make its way down her spine as she closed her eyes. His hand was replaced by his mouth. He dotted the delicate bones with soft kisses and light sweeps of his tongue. Her body buzzed with the warmth of the alcohol she had consumed and the fire of desire he was making her feel with each stroke of his mouth and hands. His hand had slipped down to cup her breast, naked beneath the thin material of her dress. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger, emitting a low, growl of satisfaction when it pebbled from his touch.  
  
"Mmmm," she moaned. "If you don't stop now, we won't make it home or anywhere else."   
  
He reluctantly pulled away after gracing her lips with a chaste kiss.   
  
"Fine, then," he told her. "We'll play it your way. Was just giving you a preview of what to expect when we get home anyhow."


	16. Chapter 16

Buffy hadn't been to Richenbacher's since House of Dreams last played there at least six months before. She loved the brick-faced building, rich with history, an aviation buff's dream. Inside, the rough walls were adorned with framed posters of World War II aircraft and memorabilia. Model airplanes hung from the high ceiling, tethered by fishing line. The nose and prop of an SBC Helldiver was set in the back wall behind the drum riser.   
  
Spike opted for a small bistro table at the front walkway. Buffy glanced at the marquis to see who was playing. Ken and Andrew. She'd seen them before with House of Dreams. Their rendition of 'Seven Bridges Road' with Britton and Jack stood out in her mind. They did a wonderful a capella opening that had made her face light up the first time she heard it and each time after.   
  
Spike sat close to her in their wrought iron chairs, his lips finding hers from time to time, stealing kisses and nibbles. Ken and Andrew opened their set with an acoustic version of the "Welcome Back Kotter" theme. Their eclectic covers ranged from "Miracles" by Jefferson Starship to Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" and everything in between.   
  
Spike excused himself as they wrapped up their first set. Buffy sipped at her espresso, made painfully sweet with more sugar than she'd planned to stir into the demitasse cup. She couldn't believe how well she knew Spike. She'd daydreamed about this date all the way down to this very place. She just never dreamed that the girl in question would be her. She felt the smile spread and warm her cheeks as she thought about how quickly they had fallen in love. Was it really as fast as it seemed? She had been in love with him from the first time she saw his beautiful blue eyes. She wondered if he had felt the same. And just why had it taken them so long to realize their happily ever after.   
  
She was still staring into her cup when she heard someone on the mike saying something about 'Red Rain' and 'guitarist' and 'special song for his girl.' She looked up to see Spike sitting on a stool, Andrew's guitar on his lap, with a shy smile gracing his lips. He was looking right into her.   
  
"The first time I saw Buffy she was only 12 years old and I knew she was the one. Maybe not right then, but I knew that if I was patient and if I could wait, she could love me as much as I love her," he spoke into the microphone, his voice gravelly with emotion.   
  
She heard a few 'aws' from girls sitting in her vicinity. She knew that they were all looking at her, but all she could see was Spike.   
  
"So, this is for my girl. For my Buffy. As much as I'd like to say I wrote this song for her last night, the truth is that it wrote itself and my brain had very little to do with it. It's all from my heart. Buffy, love, this is for you..."   
  
She felt the tears warming her eyes as he began picking at the guitar. Everyone was silent as they waited for him to sing.   
  
*Life is a road forever winding   
  
Where it lead us, I don't know   
  
In it together for better or worse   
  
Searching for our pot of gold.*   
  
He was piercing her soul with his eyes as the words fell effortlessly from his lips.   
  
*Time leaves a trail of broken hearts   
  
So many arrows just keep missing their mark   
  
Baby, that ain't us*   
  
No. It wasn't. They had each other and that's all that mattered.   
  
*Nothing else matters when you're in it for love   
  
Together we can only go higher   
  
You can reach any rainbow that you're dreaming of   
  
Nothing else matters at all when you're in it for love.*   
  
For her. It was all for her. She couldn't believe how blessed she was. Loving someone was the most wonderful feeling in the world, she thought, but being loved by someone was euphoric. It made her complete.   
  
*We'll share in the laughter, share in the tears   
  
And the promises we keep.   
  
Life can be crazy, love can be cruel   
  
But it's always been a two way street.*   
  
He always loved her. Even before he voiced the words. She thought of the little things he'd said or done before she knew the secrets of his heart. He'd kissed her forehead, touched her shoulder in passing or just listened to her while she spoke to him, always giving her his complete attention. He teased her, made her blush and he made her laugh, as well. It had always been there, her heart was just too blinded by the fear of rejection to let her eyes see.   
  
*You try and give it all you have to give   
  
So many people don't know how to forgive   
  
Baby, that ain't us   
  
Nothing else matters when you're in it for love   
  
Together we can only go higher   
  
You can reach any rainbow that you're dreaming of   
  
Nothing else matters at all   
  
When you're in it for love, baby   
  
In it for love.*   
  
He set down the guitar in its stand and walked back to the table. She was staring up at him with wide eyes, shining with love. She was sure that she was the envy of every other woman on the patio and their dates were probably all cursing Spike under their breaths for his very public declaration of love for his girl.   
  
They sat politely through one more music set, never tearing their eyes from one another. When the final song was played, they both waved to Ken and Andrew in appreciation for their cooperation, and practically sprinted back to the DeSoto.   
  
They hadn't said a word to each other, but the air around them swam with their lustful thoughts. Buffy's body was thrumming from the anticipation of his touch. The ride home passed in a blur. Spike forced himself to focus on the road, but he could feel the burn of her eyes as they skimmed over his body.   
  
She wasn't sure who got to the front door first or even how it opened. All she knew was that his mouth had descended upon hers as soon as it closed. Her hands were sliding his jacket off of his shoulders as his searched for the zipper on the back of her dress. He moaned as she hungrily thrust her tongue into his mouth tasting him as if it was for the first time. Her body was pressed against his, her sex grinding into his erection. The jacket fell to the floor and she reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it from his trousers as her dress began to slip from her body.   
  
His tongue danced over her neck and down to her collarbone, nipping and licking her skin until it was replaced by gooseflesh. He pulled away to let her move the shirt over his head and then skimmed his hands down her sides, taking the dress with them. Her nipples immediately pebbled at the contact of his muscled chest. He groaned as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, finally freeing him from the confines of clothing.   
  
She boldly took him into her hand and stroked the velvety skin slowly. She was rewarded by a gasp of surprise as he looked into her eyes. They were dancing with mischief and he couldn't help but feel a bit of pride at the fact that he'd brought out the minx in her.   
  
Her dress had pooled around her feet, leaving her clad only in her sandals and the wisp of lace that covered her mound. His fingers hooked into the sides of her thong and she let out a soft moan, encouraging him to remove them.   
  
"We should go upstairs," she told him, breathless from his touch.   
  
"We should," he agreed, his fingers now grazing the molten warmth between her thighs. "Or we could stay right here."   
  
"Or we could stay right here," she echoed as he probed even further into her.   
  
His lips travelled further down her body, latching onto a rosy nipple and sucking until she cried out. He continued to kiss down her body, nipping at her skin as his mouth brushed over her belly. Her eyes widened as she realized he was moving even lower, sinking to his knees before her. His hands moved to her feet, helping her step out of the sandals, as his mouth continued to worship her heated skin.   
  
"Oh, God, Will!" she shakily whispered. "Oh, yessss... Will! Oh, mmm... gaaaah!"   
  
He suddenly heaved her over his shoulder and began walking purposefully toward the staircase.   
  
"Upstairs it is," he grinned wickedly.


	17. Chapter 17

"Will..."   
  
He could feel her hand skating over his naked back. He tried toforce his eyes open, but he was just too comfortable where he was.   
  
"Will, get up. I need you to take me to school before I'm late," she repeated.   
  
He rolled over to his back and smacked his lips, his eyes still closed. Ah, yes. Real life calls. Classes must be attended. Thoughts of naked Buffy writhing under his sweat-slicked skin must be pushed to the back of his mind. His eyes slowly rolled open. She was sitting on the bed smiling down at him. He wished he could wake up like this every day. Then again, he'd probably never make it to class or anywhere else if he did.   
  
"Morning, Kitten," he grinned, his voice still raspy from sleep.   
  
"Don't 'morning, kitten' me, Buster," she warned him. "I already called Harmony and told her that I had a ride. So let's shake a leg."   
  
"That could be arranged," he smirked. "Which leg would you prefer that I shake... the left one? The right one? Or the--"   
  
"William!"   
  
Her cheeks were crimson, but the look in her eyes told him that a little more coaxing, on his part, and she wouldn't make it to school until lunchtime.   
  
"Okay, okay. So touchy in the morning, Pet."   
  
He managed to shower and dress in record time. Buffy was standing by the front door with an armful of books and her purse slung over her shoulder. He grabbed his bag and followed her out the door.   
  
"I suppose we should leave the top up as not to muss your perfectly coiffed do?" he teased.   
  
"Remind me again why I'm with you?" she asked, sliding into the DeSoto beside him.   
  
"My irresistable charm?" he offered.   
  
"Mmm... not so much," she replied as he backed out of her driveway.   
  
"Chiseled features and model-worthy bod?" he asked.   
  
"I'm thinking a big N-O," she shot back.   
  
"That little thing I do with my tongue that makes you--"   
  
'That would be it," she cut him off quickly feeling her cheeks go warm again.   
  
He had done that little thing with his tongue in places that she never thought a tongue would ever be privy to. She silently thanked her mother again for choosing her career over her daughter. Playing house with Spike was much more fun than being ignored by her mother any day.   
  
She checked her watch, glad that he was relatively easy to get out of bed and out the door. Her cousin, Xander, had stayed with them for a month during her freshman year while his parents were in detox and her mother had to start trying to wake him an hour before the alarm went off if she wanted him up and out the door in time for his first class.   
  
"Oh, I meant to tell you yesterday," she began, remembering her run-in with Cordelia and the rumors that had spread by the end of the day. "Apparently, Angel dumped Cordy for some college girl named Fred."   
  
"Fred Burkle?" Spike asked, his eyebrow raised at the name.   
  
Fred wasn't a common name for a girl. Winifred Burkle was in his Human Relations class. Quiet little bird, but smart as a whip. He couldn't picture the great poof dumping a prize like Cordy for someone as plain as Fred -- not that there was anything wrong with the girl. She was sweet and modest. Nothing like the Cheerleader. And that's what bothered him about the situation. What was Angel doing with someone as mousy as Winifred Burkle when he could have the most popular girl in Sunnydale all to himself? Something smelled decidedly like vermin.   
  
"Yeah, I think that's her name," Buffy nodded. "You know her?"   
  
"I do. Just can't picture Peaches with someone like Fred," he told her. "Not his type at all, I mean based on his past relationship with Queen C. Fred, she's not the cheerleader type. She's more lab coat than pom-pom if you know what I mean."   
  
Buffy had to agree. The lab-coat wearing crowd weren't exactly in Angel's comfort zone. There had to be something more behind his hook-up with Fred Burkle.   
  
"Only thing I can think is it being a money thing," Spike told her.   
  
"What kind of money thing?"   
  
"You know that Frankenforehead's old man was about to lose his company, right?" he asked.   
  
"I didn't."   
  
"Right," he nodded, turning into the student parking lot of Sunnydale High. "Apparently, Liam Sr. had made some bad deals and finally had to partner with none other than one Roger Burkle. The Burkle's are old money. They're all about keeping things in the family and sealing the deal in blood, so to speak."   
  
"In English now?"   
  
"Probably betrothed his oldest daughter as part of the deal, Kitten," he explained.   
  
Buffy thought about that for a moment. She was almost angry for Cordelia. Almost. What kind of antiquated moron makes his daughter part of a business deal?   
  
"Wow... that kind of... sucks," she admitted.   
  
"Yeah, it does. And I imagine the Cheerleader might actually need one of her old friends right now," he suggested. "Not that she'd ever admit it."   
  
He was right, of course he was. Buffy decided to bite the bullet and try to make nice with Cordelia. She couldn't imagine how she'd feel if Spike was taken away from her as part of a business arrangement.   
  
Spike watched her face darken and figured out what she was thinking.   
  
"It would never happen," he stressed. "I'm my own man, Kitten. Nothing could ever tear me away from you."


	18. Chapter 18

Buffy slid into her seat in first period English. She was rummaging through her purse for a pen when she heard a collective gasp from all around her. Her eyes darted up to glimpse at a very rumpled Cordelia Chase in front of her. Cordy's hair was thrown into a messy ponitail, her eyes were rimmed red from crying and her nose rubbed nearly raw. She was wearing mismatched sweats with flip-flops and seemed to not notice the papers falling out of her textbooks.   
  
Buffy locked eyes with Mrs. Calendar, silently pleading for the teacher to allow her to talk to Cordelia outside the classroom. She nodded her consent and Buffy was up and ushering Cordy back out the door within seconds. She quietly walked her down to the benches in the quad and sat down beside her.   
  
"Cordy," Buffy began, not really knowing where to go with the conversation. "Why don't you let me call Will. He can come get you, take you home... you look like you could use a 'you' day."   
  
Cordy shook her head fiercely and began sniffling again, the tears coming of their own accord. She was too tired to fight them back anymore. She felt Buffy's arms around her shoulders and buried her head in her friend's hair.   
  
"I'm so sorry, Buffy," she mumbled through her tears. "I'm so sorry."   
  
Buffy stroked her hair and willed herself to not inwardly gloat at Queen C's apology. Any other time, it would have called for a celebration, but not when Cordelia was as broken as she was now.   
  
"It's okay, Cordy," she lied. Because it wasn't okay.   
  
"No," Cordy wailed, pulling back to look Buffy in the eye. "No, it's not okay. I had no right to pass judgement on you and Spike. God, Buffy. *Look* at me! I let Angel dictate who I was from the moment I laid eyes on him. I was exactly who he wanted me to be... but that wasn't enough. It's just not enough."   
  
"No, Cordy," Buffy agreed. "It's not enough. Not for someone like Angel. But I always thought that less is more. I think Harmony probably feels the same about now."   
  
Cordy was trying to follow along.   
  
"What I'm saying, Cordy," Buffy sighed. "Is that you were always good enough for me and Harmony. But, no. You'll never be good enough for Angel. And that's not your fault. Nobody will ever be good enough for Angel. Fred will never be good enough for Angel. But it looks like she's the one who gets stuck with him. Not you. And that's a good thing."   
  
That *was* a good thing. Cordy looked up at Buffy and smiled. She had no idea how Buffy could sit there and comfort her after how cruelly she was treated all these years, but she was grateful for her friendship.   
  
"Let me call Will. He has a break around noon and he can come get you. I'm sure your teachers will understand," Buffy told her friend.   
  
Cordy watched as Buffy went to the pay phone across the quad. She looked a mess. She couldn't believe she had shown up for school looking the way she did. What the Hell had she been thinking? She was Cordelia Chase! And she'd better start looking and acting it lest someone forget.   
  
"Hey Will, it's me... do me a favor and come get Cordy during your break. She could use a personal day. And please, whatever you do, don't say a word about how she looks," she told his answering machine. "I'll talk to you later. And Will... I love you."   
  
Buffy walked back over to where Cordelia sat and gave her a weak smile.   
  
"I left a message on his machine," she told her. "He usually checks while he's home for lunch. I'm sure he'll come get you, Cordy. Please don't let Angel get you down. Hell, if anything, you should pity both him and Fred."   
  
"And why would I do that?" Cordy ground out, not wanting to pity the two people who had hurt her the most.   
  
"Because I don't think either of them are too crazy about this arranged marriage of theirs," Buffy told her.   
  
"What?"   
  
"I mean, I would be pretty pissed if Giles told Will that he had to marry someone just to save the family business," Buffy continued, unaware that Cordelia was hearing the real reason for the break-up for the first time.   
  
"Again with the what the hell are you talking about?" Cordy demanded.   
  
Buffy couldn't help but notice that old fire back in her eyes.   
  
"Angel's dad was about to lose VisionCorp Sunnydale," Buffy told her, it finally dawning on her that Cordelia had no clue as to why Angel really broke up with her. "Roger Burkle is his new partner. Apparently, there were some stipulations before he'd seal the deal... one of them being that they become family. And by that, I mean Mr. O'Connor had to promise Mr. Burkle that Angel would marry Fred."   
  
"Holy Guano, Batman!" Cordelia shrieked. "And that bastard just went along with it! What a spineless, worthless, arrogant... you know, I think I'm feeling much better about this whole thing. I mean, outside of the having no date for prom part... but I'm frickin' Cordelia Chase! And I'm on the market!"   
  
Buffy giggled and looked down at Cordelia's flip-flop clad feet and then back up to her unmade-up face.   
  
"Might want to make the merchandise a little more presentable, then," she teased.


	19. Chapter 19

"You're either a saint or stupid, Buffy," Harmony groused as the two girls followed Cordelia out of Belk's.   
  
"Meaning?"   
  
"Why," she began, her voice laden with exasperation."Oh, why would you invite her to go dress shopping with us?"  
  
Buffy thought back to lunch hour and how she'd found Cordelia huddled in the handicapped stall of the red hall bathroom. The cheerleader had been sobbing uncontrollably. Every once in awhile, she'd stop long enough to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. And then she'd start sobbing again.   
  
Buffy had decided to chance it.   
  
"Cordy?" she called quietly.   
  
Her voice still managed to echo in the large room.   
  
"Go away," Cordelia hiccupped angrily.   
  
"I'm not going away, Cordy," Buffy told her."Come on out. We need to talk."   
  
"I'm not talking to you!" she all but shouted."I'm not talking to anyone! Just leave me alone and let me puke until I die."   
  
Buffy closed her eyes and silently counted to ten. She would find a way to ignore Cordelia's ever-present melodrama just this one time.   
  
"Listen, Cordy," she sighed."I'm not even going to pretend to know how you feel or what you're thinking. It makes my stomach knot up just imagining how I would feel if I had found out that Will was marrying someone else."   
  
And it did. It made Buffy want to sink to her knees and keen from the loss.   
  
"Did... did you love him, Cordy?" she asked softly.   
  
The sobbing subsided a bit and she heard the door unlatch on the stall. Cordelia walked out rubbing furiously at her red-rimmed eyes with angry fists.   
  
"No."   
  
Buffy stared into her eyes in challenge.   
  
Cordelia sighed and shook her head.   
  
"Yes."   
  
Without thinking of the consequences, Buffy reached out for her childhood friend and pulled her into a hug. She realized her mistake when Cordelia immediately tensed in her embrace, but was surprised when the cheerleader just as suddenly relaxed and buried her face in Buffy's neck. She was shaking with sobs and soaking Buffy's skin with her flood of tears.   
  
"I love him," she cried, inconsolably."And he didn't believe me."   
  
Buffy stroked her hair in understanding.   
  
"He wasn't just my first, Buffy," Cordelia found herself admitting."He was my only."   
  
If Buffy was surprised, she didn't let on and for that, Cordelia was grateful. She didn't know what made her blurt out such personal information, but she appreciated Buffy's nod of understanding.   
  
Buffy stepped away from her and smiled.   
  
"I'll tell you what," she told her friend."You pull yourself together, wash up, fix your mascara... I'll go call Will. What we need, Queen C, is a little retail therapy. We're going to find you the most to-die-for prom dress ever!"  
  
Cordelia looked at Buffy like she'd just said the most inane thing she'd ever heard.   
  
"Prom? Prom?" she shrieked."How can you talk to me about prom?!"   
  
A fresh onslaught of tears followed.   
  
"Cordy," Buffy said soothingly."Breathe, Cordelia. You are so going to prom. You're Cordelia Chase! Are you going to let a little thing like no date keep you from your senior prom?"   
  
She didn't wait for Cordy's response.   
  
"Of course, you aren't!! You're going to find a dress that will have the boys drooling with desire and the girls drooling with envy!" she told her forcefully before repeating "You're Cordelia fucking Chase!!!"   
  
Cordy straightened her spine and her eyes took on a cast of pure determination as she growled softly:"I'm Cordelia fucking Chase!"   
  
And now she and Harmony were tailing Cordelia Fucking Chase through the Paddock Mall as she snarked about this, that and the other.   
  
Buffy spied Spike and Gunn leaning against the wall outside the food court. Spike raised his eyes in question. Buffy rolled hers in response. It was going to be a long afternoon. 


	20. Chapter 20

Cordelia had finally settled on a silver lamé gown and was chattering on about how a double espresso was in her near future when she stopped dead in her tracks. Buffy and Harmony looked up to see what had silenced the cheerleader when they saw them- Angel and a slight young woman with frizzy brown hair and glasses. They were standing outside of Chess King talking to Spike and Gunn oblivious to the three pairs of eyes trained on them.   
  
"I want to leave," Cordelia said tightly."Now."  
  
Buffy nodded, understanding her pain.   
  
"I'll go tell Will," she offered.   
  
"No, just- let's go. They can come find us outside," Cordelia said firmly."I- I don't want a scene. I don't want them to know."  
  
"Know what?" Harmony asked."That it bothers you?"   
  
"Shut. Up!" Cordelia whispered angrily.   
  
"Gawd, Cordy! Maybe if you'd acted like you cared while you were together-"   
  
"Harm," Buffy admonished quietly, taking her blonde friend lightly by the arm."Why don't you take Cordelia out to the car and we'll all be along in a moment."   
  
She nodded as Cordelia continued to stare at the odd couple before her. Where Cordy was outgoing and proud, Fred was introverted and shy. Where Cordy was the cutting edge of fashion, Fred was happy with a shapeless dress and last week's shoes. Cordy's nails were manicured to a high gloss, Fred's were bare and kept short. They were as different as day and night.   
  
"Come on, Cordy," Harmony said encouraging her friend out of the mall.   
  
Buffy waited until they were out of sight and then made her way over to Will. He smiled weakly when he saw her, scanning the vicinity for his step-sister. He raised his eyebrow in silent question. Buffy smiled her answer before introducing herself to Angel's fiancée.   
  
"Oh, I'm Winifred Burkle- uh, Fred," the girl stammered as she took Buffy's extended hand and shook it weakly.   
  
"It's nice to meet you, Fred," Buffy smiled back.   
  
The girl was so nice, so genuine; so not Cordelia. Buffy felt guilty that she liked her so much and so quickly. Angel had his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. She searched his face for a sign that he was anywhere but where he wanted to be and couldn't find it. He looked happy. He looked at peace; and Fred was the one who brought him that peace.   
  
Buffy looked down at her shoes and then back up when she heard Spike clear his throat. The look on his face showed that he felt the same way as she did. He liked Fred Burkle and he could see that Angel did, too.   
  
"You find a dress, Love?" he asked, slipping his arm around her.   
  
"I did," she smiled. "But I left it at the store so that I wouldn't be tempted to show it to you before prom."  
  
His girl was horrible at keeping secrets from him. Her truth game spilled over to her every day life.   
  
"How about Harm? She find something?" Gunn wanted to know, opting not to ask where she was.   
  
"Yep. Hers is with mine. And I'm not telling you anything not even the color, so don't ask."   
  
"Where is Harmony?" Angel asked, looking around.   
  
"Uh," Buffy's eyes darted between Angel and Spike."She, uh.. she's already out at the car... she was afraid you'd coerce her into hitting the food court and then she'd blow her diet... can't be gaining weight after buying a prom dress, you know?"   
  
"Oh," Angel smiled. "Yeah. God forbid."   
  
"Good thinking, getting Cordelia out of here before-" Gunn's voice trailed off as the blonde pair's jaws dropped. "Uh... yeah. I guess I just blew that, didn't I?"  
  
"You guess?" Buffy snarked.   
  
All eyes were on Gunn as he closed his eyes and swore softly.   
  
"It's- it's okay. I mean, we're going to run into each other eventually," Fred said, her voice laced with nervousness and a faint Texas accent.   
  
"Yeah," Angel agreed."Probably we'd be better off getting this over with before prom."   
  
Buffy knew he was right, but it just seemed like more than Cordelia could handle so soon. She decided to chance it.   
  
"Angel, can we talk alone for a moment?" she asked.   
  
Spike looked at her, wondering what she was up to.   
  
"Uh, yeah," he said, nodding."I'll be right back, Fred."   
  
He leaned down and kissed her temple. It was a gesture that came naturally and was sigh-worthy as far as Buffy was concerned. He obviously cared about this girl.   
  
They walked across the way to the mall's center stage, still within view of their friends. Buffy sat on the bench and patted the seat for Angel to sit with her.   
  
"I was going to ask you if your feelings for Fred were genuine," she began. "But I can see that they are."  
  
"Yeah," Angel said sheepishly. "I- I didn't think I could feel this way about anyone."   
  
"Maybe I'm speaking out of turn," she began. "In fact, I'm sure I am. Cordelia loves you, Angel. She may not have shown it in a traditional way, but... I'm just not sure she knows how."   
  
"Yeah," he nodded. "I know."   
  
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence while Buffy searched for what to say next.   
  
"When did you meet Fred?"   
  
"Um... about a year ago," he admitted. "But we didn't start dating until a few months ago."   
  
"Yet you continued to sleep with Cordy," she pointed out.   
  
"Yeah, I did that..."   
  
"Did Fred- does she know?" Buffy asked thinking she likely didn't.   
  
"Actually, yeah. She knows. She knows I was having a hard time ending things with Cordelia," Angel sighed. "Listen, Buffy. I know that my relationship with Fred seems sudden and maybe it even seems... unorthodox. But I can guarantee you that my feelings for her are genuine. And I think they could even be love."  
  
Buffy's heart ached for the three of them. He thought it could even be love. That's something he should just know.   
  
"You never loved Cordy?" she ventured to guess.   
  
"She's not the most loveable person, you know, Buffy. Hell, if anyone would know, you would," he told her. "I tried. I mean, she's popular and she's sexy. Downright gorgeous. But she's also spoiled and mean. Not the shiniest bulb on the tree, if you know what I mean. To put her next to Fred and compare them based on their looks alone before either of them ever opened their mouths to speak, Cordy would be the obvious choice."  
  
Buffy understood.   
  
"But I've gotten to know Fred all year. Our families have spent a lot of time together. Underneath that shy, bookish exterior is a beautiful girl. She's incredibly smart. She's quiet, but funny. Kind of quirky. She's got the sweetest smile I've ever seen."   
  
She smiled and reached out to squeeze Angel's hand. Happiness happened in the strangest places, she thought. She looked over at Harmony and Gunn. The dimpled blonde cheerleader was giggling as her muscled, chrome-domed boyfriend tugged on a strand of her hair. Her eyes raised to meet Spike's. Shy William. He'd changed so much and yet he was still the same. She loved him more than she ever imagined she could love anyone. Fred was looking over at Angel with that sweet smile. She was a sucker for love and she knew it; and she'd do her damnedest to keep Cordelia from hurting both Fred and Angel as well as herself.


	21. Chapter 21

Buffy was picking at her salad as Cordelia and Harmony gossiped beside her. The school cafeteria was bustling with activity and strange smells. Harmony wrinkled her nose as Gunn set his tray down on the table.   
  
"Soilent Green much?" she asked, making a face at the food-type substance on his tray.   
  
Gunn grinned and dropped a kiss on her head as he sat beside her.   
  
"What's the latest gossip?" he asked, shoveling a sporkful of "food" into his mouth.   
  
"Us? Gossip?" Buffy said, feigning innocence.   
  
Gunn raised an eyebrow and shook his head before shoveling in more of the Soilent Green.   
  
"Yeah. You. Gossip."   
  
"No gossip," Cordelia lied. "Just talking about prom."   
  
"Yeah, hey- speaking of prom," Gunn said, setting down his eating utensil."How do you feel about blind dates?"  
  
Cordelia stared at him as if he'd said something dirty.   
  
"Okay.. maybe that's not a great idea after all-" Gunn backpedaled.   
  
"Who did you have in mind?" Buffy immediately piped up, thinking it was the best idea she'd heard in a long time.   
  
"Well, there's this guy that's in my Chemistry class; he's not real popular or anything... but he's pretty nice. Decent type of guy. And he probably doesn't get a lot of play. Kind of quiet... but I think he'd really be jacked about taking Cordelia to prom. Probably he'd go all out," Gunn told them.   
  
"Jonathan Levinson?" Buffy asked, hoping she was wrong.   
  
"Yeah," Gunn nodded."That's the dude's name."   
  
"Jonathan's really nice, Cordy," Harmony tried, searching her memory for just one conversation she may have had with the guy.   
  
"Euw! World of NO!" Cordelia whined.   
  
Buffy thought for a moment and then had a brilliant idea.   
  
"Why don't you come with me to band practice tonight," she offered."Spike's drummer is kind of cute. I think you'd like him."   
  
Cordy started to make a face and then Harmony interrupted her thoughts.   
  
"Ooh! Yeah! Spike's probably got all kinds of hot college friends!" she beamed.   
  
"Spike? Hot friends? Yeah, right," Cordy scoffed, picking at some imaginary lint on her shirt sleeve.   
  
"Actually, Xander's kind of cute. And I'm pretty sure he's single," Buffy offered.   
  
"Xander?" Cordy asked incredulously.   
  
"Yeah, Xander Harris," Buffy continued, thinking of how excited Xander would be to escort the cheerleader to prom.   
  
"You mean geeky Alex Harris whose parents are a couple of drunks? Alex Harris from the house on Corrine Drive that has peeling paint and weeds growing in the flower beds? No thanks."   
  
"Cordy, come on. When is the last time you saw Xander?" Buffy tried, hoping to change her friend's mind.   
  
"We should all go to practice with Buffy!" Harmony suggested."It'll be fun! Come on, Cordy! At least get a little lookie-loo at the package before you turn down the merchandise!"   
  


To Be Continued


End file.
